


I Like Me Better (When I'm With You)

by whatsup_buttercup



Series: sad nesting [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Abortion, Drunken Consent, Fashion & Couture, Fluff, Katsuki Yuuri's Terrible No Good Very Bad 9 Months, M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, SAD nesting, Scenting, Surrogacy, not a kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsup_buttercup/pseuds/whatsup_buttercup
Summary: Yuuri brushes off his slacks as he stands and exits the stall. “How did the presentation in New York go? I heard you got to attend.”“Don’t change the subject,” Yuri says, slouching near the sink. “It went fine.”“Good.” He washes his hands and adjusts his tie in the mirror, avoiding looking at his own pale face.“I just have the flu,” Yuuri says, when Yuri doesn’t stop staring him down. It’s probably true. Too long for food poisoning, he reasons, even if he doesn’t have a fever.Yuri doesn’t look like he believes him, which is fair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) for the beta <3
> 
> Please read the tags! This fic does have mpreg, but will not be a kidfic. The story will end before any babies make their appearance. 
> 
> In a way, it is a love letter to [Surrogate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537859/chapters/25904286) by [rougeandtonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougeandtonic/pseuds/rougeandtonic) <3 Although the only overlap is mpreg and the concept of surrogacy.

Yuuri shuffles into the office on autopilot, zombie-like. He traces the same path through the busy shopping area around the ticket gates, up the stairs, and down crowded sidewalks towards the office. He’s not a morning person, so the path is something he has almost-literally sleepwalked for the past 4 years.

Only when he reaches the elevator and presses “7” does he snap out of it guiltily, and press “6” instead. He doesn’t work on seven anymore, not after the disaster last quarter.

Yuuri tries to smooth his messy hair out as he walks towards his desk, but it’s futile, really. He’d fallen asleep immediately after his bath, hair still damp, and it sticks up along the side in an uneven wave. 

He’s late again. His coworkers are too polite to say anything about it, but that won’t stop Yuuri from beating himself up. There’s a distance here between him and the other production designers; they defer to him when they shouldn’t, just because pre-demotion he was a design lead. 

While his computer boots up, Yuuri gets tea from the communal pot. It turns out to be a bad idea, since the unusually bitter taste makes his stomach swoop uncomfortably and he has to swiftly redirect himself to the bathroom. He manages to not throw up, just barely.

No wonder his coworkers want nothing to do with him; they probably think he’s coming to work hungover every day. He isn’t, at least not _every_ day, it’s just that his stomach has been unsettled for two weeks now and it’s hard to keep things down. 

He returns to his desk just in time to be swept into a meeting he’s unprepared for. Their project manager divvies out mindless work, adjusting simple patterns and creating runway mockups from existing designs. Yuuri is tasked with cleaning up a seamless pattern of blue roses and adjusting the original, full-color design into a 3-color style for production. 

It’s something he could do in his sleep, but he’s grateful for that, and also that the meeting is short. 

He can smell himself again. 

No matter how many scent blockers he sprays himself with lately, that telltale omega stench just seeps out. He should see a doctor, but the thought of calling and making an appointment sounds worse than the symptoms: nausea, achiness, his unruly scent. 

Yuuri retreats to the bathroom to subtly spray on more neutralizers, but something sets his stomach on edge again and very quickly he’s kneeling in the toilet stall, emptying out his already empty stomach. 

There’s a loud _thunk_ on the stall door. Yuuri jumps.

“You need to get your shit together,” an angry voice scolds. Ah.

Yuuri wipes his mouth, “Hello, Yuri.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing in production,” Yuri continues, “but isn’t that rock bottom enough, without coming into work hungover every day?”

Yuri is the CEO’s grandson, but he’d worked his way to the coveted internship spot through pure talent, no nepotism needed. Yuuri’s always had a soft spot for him. In a weird way, he’s touched that he’s down here, yelling in a bathroom. Most of his former coworkers haven’t been speaking to him. 

Yuuri brushes off his slacks as he stands and exits the stall. “How did the presentation in New York go? I heard you got to attend.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Yuri says, slouching near the sink. “It went fine.”

“Good.” He washes his hands and adjusts his tie in the mirror, avoiding looking at his own pale face. 

“I just have the flu,” Yuuri says, when Yuri doesn’t stop staring him down. It’s probably true. Too long for food poisoning, he reasons, even if he doesn’t have a fever. 

Yuri doesn’t look like he believes him, which is fair. 

\---

Yuuri returns to his desk, looking and feeling like death. He can’t miss any more work or he’ll have to go to the doctor and get a note.

He’s just beginning to get to work on the blue roses when someone knocks on the low wall of his cube. Yuuri looks up to meet beautiful blue eyes. 

It’s Viktor Nikiforov. He’s in an elegant suit and tie, from his own design line, and he looks devastatingly beautiful.

“Yuuri! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he smiles. 

Viktor Nikiforov knows his name. Viktor Nikiforov is in his cube. Viktor Nikiforov is looking for him. 

“Um,” Yuuri says, then stops, looking around the rest of the office. 

Viktor has two cups of coffee. He sets one down next to Yuuri, then casually leans on the side of his desk.

“I was surprised when they said you were in production,” Viktor continues. “Anyway, I’m here! Sorry it took so long, all the transfer paperwork and moving took some time. It’s so hard to find a place with room for Makka to run around!”

He really should call a doctor because clearly Yuuri is hallucinating. Viktor, his design idol, the reason Yuuri started working for this company to begin with, belongs hours away at the main office.

“There’s a dog park across the street,” Yuuri says on autopilot, surprising himself. Makka is Viktor’s beloved poodle, of course. She has more followers on Instagram than Viktor himself, and that’s saying something.

Viktor beams. “I know! I found a place a few minutes from the office, so I’m sure we’ll be there often.”

“That’s good,” Yuuri says on reflex.

“Anyway, Yuuri.” Viktor leans in and holds Yuuri’s chin lightly with his elegant, perfect fingers, gently brushing Yuuri’s lower lip with his thumb. “I’m here now. From this day forward, you’ll be my assistant.”

“ _What!?_ ”

Viktor explains happily that starting tomorrow, he’ll be working with Viktor directly. They’ll share an office. It’s all worked out. Yuuri nods along, feeling mute, and retreats to the bathroom as soon as he’s able, where he throws up yet again. Throat burning, he slumly sets up a doctor’s appointment for that afternoon.

\---

In the clinic lobby, Yuuri’s phone buzzes in his pocket. For once, he takes it out to see right away.

_Dinner tonight?_

It’s Phichit. Yuuri’s already blown him off two times this week. 

_I’m so sorry, it’s my mom’s birthday dinner,_ he types back. _Tomorrow instead?_

_Yes! Glad you’re feeling better. We’ll get something bland._

Phichit’s definition of bland is anything below boiling-lava-spicy, but Yuuri smiles and agrees. 

Truly, he wants to cancel on his Mom’s birthday dinner too, and maybe curl up under a rock and never come out again, ever. 

The nurse checks his weight and temperature, and runs down a checklist of generic questions. Are you on any medication? No. How long has the nausea lasted? Are there any other symptoms? Did you eat anything unusual? And on and on. She calmly checks boxes on her computer screen. 

“All right, thank you, Mr. Katsuki. I’m going to send you down the hall for a blood test.”

He’s not particularly bothered by needles, so the procedure isn’t much of a problem. All in all, it’s a very standard visit. The nurse hasn’t offered any suggestions about why he might be feeling so awful, and Yuuri thinks privately that he shouldn’t have bothered coming at all. 

The bored nurse doesn’t come back, though. Instead, a doctor walks in.

She sits him down and explains the results. A slow rushing sound fills his ears.

 _“Excuse me?”_ “You’re presenting at about six-weeks, which explains the nausea,” the doctor adds.

Pregnant!?

“I haven’t had my heat this year,” Yuuri explains , confident in the truth. It shouldn’t even be possible. Yuuri isn’t proud of his rather spotty sexual history, but he hasn’t slept with anyone since Brad (Brian? Bill?), a brief fling from his dance class, years ago. He’d had to switch studios, to the more expensive one across town, just to avoid ever having to look him in the eye again. The knot had been nice, but not worth all that.

“Heats are not a prerequisite for conception. Pregnancy is more difficult to achieve for male omegas, of course, but intercourse always carries a risk.” She sounds vaguely scolding.

“I’m sorry, there must be a mistake,” Yuuri explains. “Maybe you tested someone else’s blood? I’m not. I mean, I can’t.”

“I can assure you, the test was very clear. You are definitely pregnant.”

“But I haven’t slept with anyone?” He can’t help the way his voice curls into a question. The first hint of a fear scent reaches his nose; he’s projecting, past all the neutralizers. Pregnancy would explain why they haven’t been working well.

They discuss his options. Unattached and terrified, it isn’t a hard decision to make. 

Yuuri schedules an abortion for the following week. As he leaves the office, he racks his brain, trying to uncover the truth. Six weeks ago…? Yuuri certainly wasn’t out having unprotected sexcapades with alphas. About six weeks ago was when he completely bombed his major presentation to their biggest client and lost out on a massive amount of business, embarrassing himself so thoroughly that he had to ask to be transferred to a production role. He’d been dragged to the bar afterwards by his coworkers, trying in vain to comfort him when all he wanted was to be alone to lick his wounds. Alcohol had a part to play with all his previous sexual history, but that outing had been by the main office, hours away from his comfort zone, and he remembers clearly sitting in a corner being a miserable sad-sack for the evening. 

Yuuri pulls out his phone to text his parents. Yes, it’s his mom’s birthday dinner, but he’d just bring down the party. He feels nauseous again. Before he can open the text app, a call from Mari appears and he accidentally hits accept.

 _Fuck_. 

“Yuuri!” There’s muffled crowd noise in the background behind Mari’s voice. “Where are you?”

“I just got out of work late,” he lies reflexively. 

“I’m glad I caught you before you got here,” Mari says, and the tone of her voice is unusually serious. Yuuri’s grip tightens on his phone. “Just, when you get here, don’t mention the baby.”

Confusion. He bites back a panicked _what baby!?_ before the rest of his guilty brain engages.

Mari and Makoto. 

“What happened?”

“It didn’t work out,” Mari says. A casual observer couldn’t tell; but the grief in his sister’s voice is as clear as can be, now that he’s listening for it. Mari and Makoto have been trying for 2 years.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mari says, and it’s clear that it isn’t. 

Something wells up in Yuuri’s chest, overflowing. “Mari,” he starts. 

He can’t bear to disappoint one more person, to be a miserable letdown one more time.

“Have you ever,” Yuuri swallows. Now or never. “Considered surrogacy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from [I Like Me Better by Lauv](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7fzkqLozwA).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Some health issues got in the way. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for your kind comments on the last chapter. They really meant a lot!! <3

Viktor brings coffee for them both in steaming plastic cups, fresh from the overpriced hipster shop on the corner. Yuuri’s hair is rumpled and soft, and he has dark circles under both eyes. He looks like a man who needs caffeine, and Viktor is briefly proud of his foresight.

Yuuri turns down the coffee but at least has the decency to look like it pains him to do so.

Right. They’re on work time. Professionalism. Viktor is an expert at this. Yuuri won’t accept his offers of coffee, which is a little hurtful, but if Viktor was the kind of person to be deterred so easily, he wouldn’t be in the position he is today.

“I brought along some ideas for our collection,” Viktor transitions smoothly. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to think about it much, but here’s what I have so far.”

He spreads out a few pages of sketches from a black leather portfolio case. There are tiny clips of sample fabric attached in relevant places, and tries to keep it cool despite how obvious he’s being.

The fabrics share a common theme, browns and reds and golds, shimmery and liquid. In terms of the language of design, it’s practically a blinking neon sign surrounded by strobe lights; the message is obvious. Viktor had based his direction on the night he’d met Yuuri, and the sketches scream drinking and dancing. He watches Yuuri’s face anxiously for any reaction, and nearly melts in relief when he gets his first smile of the day.

“This is amazing,” Yuuri breathes, reaching out to touch a golden swatch with reverent fingers. Perhaps he doesn’t regret the night they had together.

“We’re going to make the best season ever, right?” Viktor smiles.

Chris would call him out for making a collection themed around their night of drunken passion, but he’s not here right now. Yuuri is. And Yuuri looks beautiful, dreamy and soft, as he starts to make notes and add his own sketches and ideas.

They continue to work out details throughout the morning, standing close enough that Viktor can enjoy the delicate scent of Yuuri and daydream a bit about what it would be like to press his lips against Yuuri’s neck again and taste it.

As lunch approaches, Viktor has enough hope to try again.

“Is there anywhere good to eat around here? I’m new to the area. I’d appreciate it if you could show me where the best places for lunch are. My treat?” He’s coming on strong and maybe a bit pathetic.

Yuuri’s sketching out a flowing skirt. His pencil stroke pauses mid-ruffle. “Okay. I could show you around.”

Success! Viktor nearly cheers. For some reason, he’s really invested in making sure Yuuri eats. He always looks so pale and tired.

As they’re sitting down in the busy cafeteria at the base of the office building, Viktor with a tray of food and Yuuri with a glass of water, Viktor reevaluates the success.

This isn’t what he intended at all, bland plastic tables and overpriced sandwiches. And Yuuri, eating nothing at all.

“Nothing?”

Yuuri takes a defiant sip of his water. “I’m not feeling well.”

Viktor takes a grumpy bite of his mediocre sandwich. _At least he went out with you,_ a part of him cheers.

“Have you been to the doctor?” Viktor asks. He can’t remember Yuuri eating anything at work, come to think of it. Doesn’t he have friends, family? People to take care of him? VIktor doesn’t, but surely Yuuri has those things. There’s a framed photo of Yuuri and a similarly-aged Thai boy on his desk, smiling wide, which Viktor tries and fails to ignore. There’s also a family photo with an adorable toy poodle in Yuuri’s arms. Where are those people?

Yuuri goes, if possible, more pale. “Yes, I’ve been. I’m healthy.”

They’ve been working together two weeks now and all Viktor’s seen him eat is water. He spears a pineapple piece from his fruit salad on his clean fork and holds it out, near Yuuri’s pretty, chapped lips. “Just one bite? It’s good.” It looks good, anyway. Viktor hasn’t actually tried it.

He’s aware he’s being ridiculous. Yuuri isn’t his omega, not for lack of trying, and feeding someone is a very mate-like activity. But Viktor couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to.

Yuuri eats it in one delicate bite. Viktor kind of wishes he was a pineapple.

Then Yuuri flushes, all the way to his ears, looking surprised. “Um, thank you,” he says, when he’s done.

Viktor glows. He pushes the little bowl of fruit salad in front of Yuuri and offers his fork. He wonders if he could get away with feeding him another bite; probably not. Yuuri’s very red.

Yuuri does finish the small bowl, slowly, over the course of their lunch hour together. He smiles more, too, as they talk about their mutual love of poodles, the office gossip surrounding their dramatic colleague Georgi, and plans for their collaboration.

Viktor counts it as an overall win.

* * *

Viktor brings him a latte one day, then a mocha the next, then a cappuccino, until he finally lands on a decaf. It took a lot of charm and a hefty tip for the hipster barista to pull out a bag of decaf beans for a pour-over, but Yuuri accepts this time and Viktor internally cheers.

This Yuuri isn’t the dynamic seductor from the night they met, but he’s just as enchanting. His ideas for their collaboration, once Viktor is able to coax them out of him, are thrillingly unique. He knows how to produce couture-like objects in a way that can still be mass-made, and his eye for tiny details is exquisite.

And maybe they’re not exactly dating yet, but Viktor’s working on it.

_“This is your final boarding call for flight 898. The doors will be closing in five minutes.”_

They’ve both been sent to a conference across the country, to pitch their collaboration to some influencers. This might be his chance.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, leaning in close to be heard in the crowded terminal. “Would you like to get something to eat before we get to the gate?”

Yuuri smells anxious, more than normal. He always looks so tired. But they’ve gone to lunch together for a full week now, and Yuuri has gradually started eating. Maybe he’s shy.

“No, thank you,” Yuuri mumbles. He rifles through his bag and triple checks their tickets like the gate has changed in the past 5 minutes since he last looked.

“Well I’m going to get a latte. It’s going to be a late night. Are you sure you don’t want anything? Decaf?” Viktor says brightly. The conference they’re heading to is fairly jam-packed, from meeting with vendors to schmoozing with retailers. A lot is riding on it.

Yuuri looks so small. Does he always look this small? It’s considered polite to cover up your scent in public, but either Yuuri isn’t very good at it or Viktor is just paying way too close attention, because he always smells sweet and a bit anxious, a contrast to how cold and withdrawn he’s been acting since they reunited.

It’s what gives Viktor hope, in a way.

“Sure, decaf.” Yuuri smiles, lopsided. Viktor internally cheers; he’s worn him down!

They line up with the other evening travelers at the airport Starbucks. Viktor wonders what Yuuri was hoping for, asking to be his partner, to make the best collection ever. Viktor’s never collaborated willingly in his life.

The air conditioning in the airport is on full blast. It’s a nice warm day outside, and Yuuri isn’t dressed for this arctic weather indoors. Viktor eyes his thin blue button-up.

He’s halfway shrugged out of his own light jacket, ready to drape it around Yuuri’s slim shoulders, before he realizes what he’s doing and stops, awkward. Viktor can feel his own nose flushing as Yuuri glances up at him, concerned. It’s such an alpha thing to do, coddling your omega. Making sure they eat and are warm and safe. Viktor’s never been much of a typical alpha–he’s never felt this way in his life. He shrugs his jacket back on and is relieved when the barista flags him down.

Viktor orders a latte and a decaf, paying quickly before Yuuri can put up a fuss.

When Yuuri takes a sip of the coffee and smiles weakly, for what feels like the first time all day, Viktor feels a fierce and unearned surge of pride. It’s not about an alpha caring for an omega, it’s about Viktor caring for Yuuri.

“Sorry I’m like this,” Yuuri says, gesturing broadly to himself with the hand that isn’t holding coffee. “It’s probably not what you were expecting.”

Viktor can’t begin to fathom what brought that up, but Yuuri’s right. He isn’t what Viktor expected at all. He’s more.

“Let’s get to the gate,” Viktor says. He presses his hand lightly against Yuuri’s back as they walk.

* * *

Their seats are in business class, which is acceptable but not ideal. Viktor gets away with falling asleep on Yuuri’s shoulder just after takeoff and waking up right as they land.

Finding their hotel isn’t quite as smooth. The conference has booked up all the hotels in the area, and unfortunately all they have left when Viktor and Yuuri check in late at night is a suite with a single king-sized bed. It’s that or taking another taxi in the middle of the night to attempt a hotel a few towns over.

Yuuri looks like he’s barely on his feet, still. Viktor guides him gently to the room where they have a brief struggle over who will take the couch, both insisting that they’re fine. The couch is a decent option, since the room is a suite.

Viktor wins, but it’s only because Yuuri is too tired to put up much of a fight.

When Viktor comes out from his evening shower, towel firmly around his hips, Yuuri is applying a thin adhesive patch to his neck, right over his scent gland. Even though it makes his nose wrinkle at the scent of artificial alpha, Viktor pretends not to notice. Some omegas have difficulty regulating their complicated hormones, and Yuuri is a male omega, a presentation known for more specialized health issues.

Maybe that’s why he always looks so tired. Those patches are expensive too, he’s heard.

Yuuri flushes and covers up quickly as soon as he notices Viktor. Then he flushes deeper when he sees what Viktor is wearing.

“Bathroom’s all yours!” He says.

Viktor would have cheerfully fought for the bed against anyone else, but for Yuuri he settles on the stiff couch without protest. It takes a while, but eventually he falls asleep.

He wakes in the night to the sound of rustling paper. In the dark, Yuuri’s silhouette can be seen rummaging through the luggage near Viktor’s head.

“Yuuri?” His voice is bleary.

Moonlight illuminates Yuuri’s face, revealing tear tracks and red-rimmed, wide eyes. Viktor only gets a glimpse before Yuuri turns away.

Well, he’s fully awake now.

“Can’t sleep?” Viktor asks, going for casual.

Yuuri nods.

What to _do._ “Not feeling well?” He guesses.

“Sorry to wake you.” Yuuri’s voice is rough, and over the almost overpowering stench of the pseudo-alpha patches he smells sick/anxious/scared. He digs around in his luggage, crinkling paper wrappers.

Scenting and hormones are extremely personal things, and he and Yuuri have only been working together for a few weeks, after one night of passion which Viktor is more and more certain Yuuri doesn’t remember.

“It’s fine,” Viktor says, reassuring. “I’m a light sleeper,” he lies. White lies.

VIktor knows he shouldn’t intrude. It isn’t his place.

But Yuuri looks small and sad, and no one should have to put up with gross artificial patches. It’s something he’d do for anyone, Viktor lies to himself. Just an offer, but an impulsive one..

“Scent patches, huh?” Viktor says, keeping his voice light and quiet.

Yuuri nods, furiously rubbing his eyes and then opening a scent patch with a rip. Viktor can see he already has two stuck on the glands at the curve of his neck. They are overpowering and vile.

Even after working with him just a few weeks, Viktor knows Yuuri won’t stand for being pitied or coddled. He takes Viktor’s criticism almost unflinchingly, and Viktor doesn’t hold back when he says what he’s thinking.

“May I help?” Viktor asks, keeping it casual and pretending his heart isn’t in his throat. He’s not made to be this delicate.

There’s a long, fragile pause. It’s a testament to just how upset Yuuri is that he nods.

Viktor gets up off the couch and softly approaches, palms open. When Yuuri doesn’t back away, Viktor gently begins to peel off the paper scent patches, wincing internally at the red marks they make on Yuuri’s pretty neck.

Yuuri’s closed his eyes. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, clearly panicked. Viktor hasn’t done this much before, only a little with Yuuri on that magic night, but he keeps his movements steady and professional as he rubs the gland on his wrist over Yuuri’s skin, painting his scent there.

It’s unmistakable how easily Yuuri melts, shoulders drooping. Yuuri breathes out tension, and Viktor’s inner alpha stands up and cheers, triumphant. Viktor knows he’s grinning wide.

He wants Yuuri to scent him back. He wants Yuuri in his arms again, and beneath him again, taking his knot so sweetly.

For now he’s happy with Yuuri a little less anxious, a little less sad.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, soft. Embarrassed.

“Anytime,” Viktor says. He means it.

It’s hard, returning back to the lumpy couch without Yuuri, but Viktor drags himself away. The conference will begin in a few short hours and he knows it’ll take time to calm down from this high.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) and [Nye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/Nyerus) for the beta <3

It’s morning. Sunlight streams through the hotel drapes, coating everything in syrupy gold. Yuuri feels better than he has in weeks, all because Viktor had offered his scent. It’s embarrassing how much better the real deal is than the patches. Yuuri runs his hands absently over cotton hotel sheets, softly smoothing out the wrinkles until they are flat and blank. Truly, he can’t remember the last time he slept so well; alpha pheromones are powerful stuff.

Viktor’s humming in the bathroom, as he adjusts his sleek tie and artfully arranges his hair. Yuuri catches himself staring too long at his strong shoulders and forcibly redirects his attention to his own tie, which is hopeless. For a designer, Yuuri has never been overly concerned with his own fashion choices. He’d much rather make something to accent a beautiful model or to bring out the stylish side of everyday person than deal with himself.

Viktor finishes up in the bathroom and comes to stand in front of Yuuri. “Need some help with that?” he asks, holding both hands out in the vicinity of Yuuri’s less-than-perfect tie.

With his wrists this close, Yuuri can _smell_ him. He’s overcome with a fierce surge of _want_ so intense that he jerks away. Viktor drops his arms and flashes a bright grin, then turns to gather the rest of his things. Yuuri mentally kicks himself. Viktor is just being nice and considerate.

Yuuri coughs to cover his discomfort and stands quicker than necessary. “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” Viktor agrees. They don’t have to bring much to the conference apart from their badges and themselves. Tomorrow they’ll be presenting, but today is all about interviewing potential models for their collaboration and checking out the vendor hall.

VIktor pauses with his hand on the doorknob. His suit is fitted and sleek, his hair doesn’t have a single strand out of place, and he’s beautiful. So beautiful. “Yuuri, if you’d like-”

Oh god, he’s been staring. He must have been staring. Either that or he looks just that pathetic.

“I’m fine!” Yuuri cuts him off, voice a little rough, aware that he’s being tense and ridiculous. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

* * *

Their conference is only taking up half of the convention center, but the venue is still massive. A tall industrial ceiling caps the cavernous space, and rows of vendor booths stretch out into the distance. Yuuri has been to these events before, but it feels different with the confidence of Viktor at his side. People turn to look as he passes, appreciative.

They end up at a more boutique modeling agency, one of the smaller booths in the back corner. It’s decorated with huge photos of the agency’s models, some of them larger than life. There are smaller books on the tables, where attendees flip through the available talent. Yuuri is struck by just how perfectly Viktor blends in with the sculpted professionals on display, and is reminded of exactly how many magazines he has, carefully preserved, from the collections where Viktor himself modeled.

“Vitya!” A willowy omega woman calls out, rushing over from the other side of the booth. She’s just a little taller than Viktor in her sleek stiletto heels, and her deep brown skin is flawless and glowing. She’s wearing simple clothing, a white blouse and designer jeans that look amazing on her long legs. Yuuri is confident she could make a burlap sack look couture.

“Natalie,” Viktor greets. “It’s great to see you again!” He gives her a brief hug.

“How have you been? I heard you were moving on to something new?” Natalie stays with her arms around Viktor a breath too long, before pulling back.

Viktor reaches out and wraps his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, drawing him in to the conversation. Yuuri reluctantly puts down the book he was pretending to browse through. “This is Yuuri Katsuki, I’m sure you’ve heard of him! We’re going to be working on a collab together.”

“Yuuri, of course!” Natalie says. Yuuri holds no illusions that she’s actually a fan of his work, but it’s polite of her to pretend. “It’s lovely to meet you. I can’t wait to see what you two come up with together. Can I help direct you to any particular type of model? How many pieces are you considering?”

They shift to business quickly. They’re looking for a broad range of models for this collection, and Natalie is very helpful with suggestions. She’s knowledgeable and professional and Yuuri would like her more if she didn’t laugh way too loudly at everything Viktor says and stand _far_ too close.

He can feel his hackles rising and knows he’s being unfair.

Viktor scents him once and Yuuri thinks somehow Viktor is his alpha? It’s laughably pathetic. Yuuri blames it on pregnancy hormones, this unfounded jealousy.

Viktor says something charming and Natalie laughs and squeezes Viktor’s hand. Yuuri nearly growls.

“I’ll be right back, excuse me,” Yuuri says, angry at himself for what he’d almost done. He splashes water on his face in the bathroom and tries to get himself under control. There are so many people around, talking and moving through the aisles loudly. Yuuri rubs his stomach where it’s twisted into knots.

When he exits the bathroom, Viktor’s waiting outside with two drinks in his hands. Natalie is nowhere in sight.

“How expensive where those?” Convention center concessions are notoriously overpriced.

“Terribly so,” Viktor says, smiling. “But we’re on the company’s dime. It’s fine, Yuuri.” He hands over one of the cups.

“Lemonade?” Yuuri asks, cautious. Viktor has mostly given up on feeding him caffeinated things, finally taking the hint. Yuuri loves coffee, and it’s hard to turn down all the time, but he’s not going to risk it for the pregnancy.

“Yes! Fresh squeezed, or so they promised. I didn’t see any actual fruit.”

He takes a sip of the lemonade and doesn’t miss the fact that Viktor doesn’t touch his own cup until Yuuri starts his. It’s sweet.

Yuuri is fully aware he isn’t handling things well.

As far as surrogacy goes, Mari had seen through him in an instant on the phone. She’d made it very clear that it was his decision, about what was best for _him_ , and that while they’d certainly be happy to have any baby of his, not to jump so readily into something impulsive, so huge.

Yuuri had stubbornly doubled down, determined to turn this out-of-control situation into something worthwhile. Mari and Makoto have been trying so hard for so long, and Yuuri’s already knocked up, living in career disgrace. He could take some time off, bring something good to his family, and mostly, selfishly, change the deeply unsatisfying miasma his life has sunk into. Yuuri’s weak, true, but he’s stubborn enough work through his weaknesses.

By the time they’re through with their drinks, it’s nearly lunch.

They end up in the hotel’s restaurant, and no matter how much Viktor coaxes, Yuuri can’t bring himself to eat anything.

They’re sitting in a booth, Yuuri with his glass of water and Viktor eating a fancy salad, when a vaguely familiar man and woman approach. The two are both wearing black with deep green accents, one of the more popular colors this season.

“Viktor, hello!” The man says. The badge clipped to his lapel says Sergei, which Yuuri recognizes as a director from the main office.

“Sergei, Tanisha!” Viktor shuffles over, invitation clear. They all shuffle into the booth. “I see you made it here all right.”

“Sure did! Our flight was delayed, but only by an hour or so.” Sergei says. A swift server comes by and deposits two more menus in front of the newcomers. “So how’s the new office treating you? I imagine it’s tough to get used to a smaller city.”

“It’s been lovely. Yuuri and I are creating some exciting things, and I really like the atmosphere. I can’t wait for everyone to see what we’re working on.” Viktor smiles.

Sergei’s gaze flicks to Yuuri for an instant, then back to Viktor. “I’m sure.”

“How’s the conference been so far for you?” Tanisha asks, tenting her perfectly manicured hands on the table. Yuuri doesn’t miss that she’s only directing this at Viktor; he feels annoyed. Yuuri can feel them eyeing him up, wondering who the man who took Viktor away from them is.

“It’s been wonderful. We’ve had a very productive morning,” Yuuri says confidently, ignoring the way Viktor blinks at him. “Viktor and I are making the best collection ever.”

“That we are,” Viktor agrees after a beat, smiling wider.

“Of course!” Sergei laughs. “Viktor, I see why you moved. Your partner certainly has passion!”

They don’t leave Yuuri so blatantly out of the conversation after that. Viktor steers the topic to bland small talk: the day-to-day of the main office, airport travel, new vendor booths of particular interest.

Yuuri keeps his spine straight. He won’t give them a reason to look down on Viktor’s choices.

* * *

By the time dinner comes around, Yuuri is hungry and exhausted. He’s expecting Viktor to want to go into town to someplace interesting and expensive, and has just about resigned himself to it when Viktor suggests room service.

The room service menu is short and overpriced, but it’s easy enough to pick. Yuuri orders a plate of pasta, craving a pile of carbs and butter, and then shuts himself in the bathroom to shower while they wait for it to arrive. It’s convenient that Viktor is a morning bather and Yuuri prefers nighttime.

The shower does have the unfortunate drawback of clearing away the last of Viktor’s scent from his skin. Which is fine, Yuuri reasons. He still has lots of alpha patches from the pharmacy.

He adheres the little plastic strip to his neck, to a spot that’s already become red and irritated from so many similar patches, and holds out for approximately two minutes while he combs his hair before ripping it off and throwing it in the trash. The artificial stench feels even worse than before, now that he’s had a taste of Viktor. It makes his skin _itch._

There’s a polite knock on their door, signalling that room service has arrived. They set up on the couch and Yuuri applies himself to his plate of carbs immediately. An action movie is selected as their dinnertime entertainment, but Yuuri is honestly more invested in his fettuccine than the heroic journey on the screen. Viktor glances his way a little too often, smiling. He doesn’t miss how delighted Viktor looks at seeing him eat.

It’s no time at all before the action hero is doing something brave and stupid in the movie’s climax, pushing his love interest out of the way of a dramatic explosion. The music swells. Yuuri and Viktor both have empty plates.

“Did you like it?” Viktor asks. He’s sitting on the other side of the couch, a respectable distance.

“Action movies aren’t really my thing.” Yuuri gets up to gather their plates.

“What kind of movies do you like, Yuuri?” Viktor asks. He’s always asking questions like this, seemingly very interested in Yuuri’s opinions.

To be honest, Yuuri doesn’t watch many movies. “I like science fiction, I guess. What about you?”

“Most of my favorite movies are romance,” Viktor answers without hesitation. “But I suppose I don’t have much time for movies, so I haven’t seen many.”

Romance. That makes sense. One of Viktor’s student projects was an homage to Victorian romance. Yuuri bites his lip. “We still have a little time. Would you like to watch one of those?”

“I’d love to,” Viktor smiles. “Maybe we can find a sci-fi romance, hmm?”

This is nice, sitting with Viktor, in a little bubble far away where he can pretend. If things weren’t so complicated…

They pick a movie and settle in. Yuuri falls asleep before the opening title.

* * *

“So do you have any big plans for today?” The nurse asks casually as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around Yuuri’s upper arm.

Yuuri’s getting awfully sick of medical visits. His pregnancy is automatically considered high risk, as an unbonded male omega. “Just heading into the office after this,” Yuuri says. He and Viktor got back from the airport late last night, after a successful conference.

“Well I’m sure we’ll be done with you quickly, so you can get there on time. Today is mostly just a follow-up to see how you’re progressing with the artificial scent.” The nurse types his blood pressure reading in on her computer.

Yuuri hasn’t been able to wear the patches for the last few days, not since Viktor. He knows it’s counterproductive to lie to your physician, but also doesn’t know how to word it. “They helped for a while, but I’ve stopped wearing them these past few days. I was at a work conference.”

“I see. Were there any side effects?” Yuuri shakes his head. The nurse pulls out a swab and Yuuri obligingly pulls down the collar of his shirt so she can get a sample from his neck. She transfers it to a sterile jar for analysis. Last time the results hadn’t been encouraging: high stress, not enough sleep. Hopefully all things the alpha patches would solve.

“You haven’t lost any more weight,” she continues, looking at the chart again. They weighed him when he came in. “So that’s great! I’m glad to hear that after last time.”

“I’ve been feeling a little better.” Yuuri says, and that’s marginally true.

“That’s wonderful. Let’s wait to see what the results say from the lab. It should only be 10 minutes or so.” She leaves Yuuri to his thoughts.

He needs to try to eat more, they had stressed. If the patches don’t work to help with his nausea, there are other options. The patches hadn’t seemed to really do much, but Yuuri thinks he might just be progressing out of it since he’d been able to eat easily the last few days.

The nurse returns with a printout of his results, a furrow between her sculpted brows. “You didn’t mention, but I take it you’ve made contact with the father?”

“What?” Yuuri sits up straighter. _Contact?_ “The test can tell that?”

It’s a worst case scenario, for the father to be someone he sees regularly. He had done the math, of course. He’s at about 11 weeks now, and the only night he can’t account for is the night of his great failure. The bar is clear in his memory, drinking quietly by himself and licking his wounds in a corner, but he doesn’t remember getting home. Sure, the bar they had chosen was popular and crowded, he shouldn’t be running into random people from another city altogether in his daily life here.

Unless they _are_ someone he sees in his everyday life. Like a colleague. Yuuri’s stomach sinks into the floor. Most of the office had been there that night.

‘Yes, of course,” she assures him, “Your scent tells us a lot about your overall health, and shows if there has been prolonged paternal contact.” She seems to pick up on Yuuri’s distress. “If you don’t wish to have contact with them, there is no problem at all. There are many resources I can help you get in touch with if you are struggling. I want you to know that many omegas still have healthy and happy pregnancies without the sire present. For example, the patches we prescribed you are very effective.”

“That’s good.” Yuuri tries to breathe deep and even. “How close do you have to be to the, um, father before my scent would start to pick it up?”

“It takes prolonged contact, usually over a few days. I know we discussed previously that the father here is unknown. Is that still the case?”

Prolonged contact. There’s only one person he’s been consistently near.

It absolutely doesn't make sense. But this changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all your feedback last chapter <3 I'm excited to share this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) for the beta!

The conference is a beautiful memory that Viktor holds onto tightly, to enjoy in the leaner times that follow. Five full days with Yuuri: talking, working, dining, and staying together in the same room. He learned that Yuuri pushes the snooze button no less than 5 times in the morning, despite falling asleep earlier than even Viktor, who is notoriously early to bed, early to rise. He experienced how Yuuri curls his hand up on the pillow next to his face, adorable even while drooling in dreamland.

Viktor has it bad. He knows this, he moved his whole life for this, and he has no regrets.

It’s perhaps because of those happy memories that the change in Yuuri’s attitude afterwards has him shaken.

The dark circles are deeper than ever, like bruises under each eye. Viktor invited him to their usual lunch and Yuuri mumbled something about errands and then sat at his desk for the full hour, working. He’s not eating again, that much is clear; Viktor isn’t able to coax him into so much as a granola bar.

He is just about to broach the subject again when the door to their shared space crashes open and a box walks in. There’s a tuft of blond hair just visible over the cardboard top, and thin legs with leopard print suede and spiked black boots underneath.

“Yuri!” Viktor walks over to catch the door before it slams closed. “Long time no see. Shouldn’t you be at the main office?”

“I’ve been here for months, jackass. Cut the crap.” Yuri sets the box down on their cluttered table.

“Hello, Yuri. Thank you for bringing our samples,” Yuuri says, mild.

Their samples! Maybe this will cheer Yuuri up, seeing some of their hard work made real.

“It’s no trouble,” Yuri deflects. “It was on my way,” he adds, a blatant lie.

A little of the light returns to Yuuri’s eyes as he uncovers the first few pieces and inspects their tags. Some of the fabrics they wanted aren’t available yet, so the supplier substituted a similar color or a slightly different weight, with details carefully noted on each.

Viktor picks up a velvet-soft shirt, faithfully recreated, and inspects the high collar with a grin. Deep black with delicate silver accents at the neck, it speaks of elegance and luxury. Loosely based on one of his own student designs, Viktor had thought of Yuuri as he’d refined it and brought it to life.

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor says, “how do you feel about doing some modeling?”

“No.” His response is immediate. He doesn’t even look up.

“You’re just the right size,” Viktor wheedles, which is a lie. The samples are designed for people just as thin in the chest as Yuuri, but with much longer limbs. “Please?”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you want to show Yuri what we’ve been working so hard on? He came all this way, after all.”

That angle seems to work a little better. Yuuri sighs and pulls off his cable-knit sweater. Viktor takes great amusement as he sees Yuri’s pale cheeks flush, as he inhales a bit too deeply. Hah, baby alpha. Viktor can’t blame him. He’s trying to control himself too.

As Yuuri shrugs awkwardly into the fresh black top, Viktor notices his patches are fully absent, his neck bare.

The shirt fits him like a glove in the chest and shoulders, sleek and tight, while the silver accents draw the eye to his face. Viktor steps forward and brushes Yuuri’s hair back over his forehead, which looks incredible. “Amazing!”

The sleeves are too long, bunching at his wrists. Somehow it’s even cuter.

Yuuri takes a few steps backward, away from Viktor’s hands.

“What do you think, Yuri?” Viktor asks.

“It looks fine, I guess.” He shuffles his spiked boot in feigned disinterest.

“It looks perfect.” Viktor picks up his phone and taps to camera mode. “Well, almost. Yuuri, can you take off your glasses?”

With his glasses off, Yuuri suddenly looks so much like that man who swept him off his feet at the banquet that Viktor’s chest aches. He holds his phone surprisingly steady as he snaps a few shots.

“I’d love to stay and watch Katsuki’s new career in modeling, but I have like three meetings to get to. Bye, Yuuri, bye, forgetful has-been.”

Yuuri doesn’t model any of the other pieces, which is a shame. But Viktor has the pictures forever on his phone: his beautiful Yuuri with a shy smile.

 

 

* * *

 

Viktor catches up with Yuri at the end of the day, as they’re both leaving the building. He considers feigning surprise that Yuri’s at this office again, but there’s no point in using the same joke twice in one day.

Yuri falls into pace at his side as they walk to the parking ramp. He glances left and right, checking they’re alone, before blurting, “I know it’s your fault if he’s drinking again. What did you do?”

Viktor blinks. “What?”

“I’m not going to repeat it. Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Viktor says, honest. Yuri looks him in the eye. “Who’s drinking?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Yuri says in an undertone, as a few coworkers pass them. He waits until they’re gone before sighing. “Nevermind, you can’t help it, you _are_ stupid. Yuuri, of course. All you do is stare at him, don’t tell me you’re that blind.”

“Yuuri doesn’t drink,” Viktor says promptly. He’d been quite firm about it, every time Viktor asked him out to do so. Viktor thinks of Yuuri dipping him during a sultry tango and amends, “At least, Yuuri hasn’t been drinking these past few months.”

“Bullshit. Then why’s he back to coming to work hungover like every day and puking in the bathroom?”

Yuri must spend a lot of time watching Yuuri also. As Viktor considers the clues, he concludes that he himself must spend a lot of time being a blind idiot. Is that why he’s so pale and tired? But that doesn’t make sense, Yuuri didn’t have a drop to drink at the conference… and also looked a lot healthier…

Viktor could kick himself. “I didn’t know.”

“More like you didn’t notice,” Yuri says, sharp as a knife.

“I’ll try and see if I can help,” Viktor says. They’ve reached their vehicles. “Thanks, Yuri.”

“Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

“So I was thinking,” Viktor says, leaning casually on the edge of Yuuri’s desk. “You’ve said your favorite dog breed is a poodle, _I_ just so happen to have the world’s best poodle, and you offered to show me the dog parks in town weeks ago.”

Yuuri turns away a little, tucking his chin so his glasses reflect the computer screen. “We’ve been busy.”

Viktor savors the _we_ briefly, before changing tactics. “ _We_ have been stuck in here all day, and it’s time to leave. Come on Yuuri, walk a poodle with me?”

Yuuri bites his lip and Viktor knows he’s won. “It’s cold out,” he tries, feebly.

“You can wear my scarf!” Viktor offers, already reaching for the green cashmere.

Viktor timed this for the end of the day. It is getting chilly as the season progresses. Maybe if Yuuri’s fingers get cold, he can hold Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri shuts down his computer and gets out of his chair, shrugging into his jacket. Viktor proudly wraps his scarf around Yuuri’s neck. Red would be better, or blue, but this looks good.

“My apartment isn’t too far. We can take Makka on a stroll, and then maybe get some dinner? My treat.”

Yuuri’s stomach takes that moment grumble loudly. “Ah, sorry.”

“I’m hungry too. How about a snack on the way?” They could stop at the fancy organic fruit stand on the corner. Viktor could feed Yuuri ripe red cherries while they walk. _Calm down_ , he tells himself again. _Don’t get drunk on success. Keep working until you’ve set out what you need to accomplish._

“All right. Lead the way.”

A frozen yogurt shop is holding an autumn sale, and they both end up with maple cones as they walk side-by-side to Viktor’s apartment. Viktor doesn’t get his wish of hand-feeding, but he still has a lovely time. They reach Viktor’s apartment with minimal hassle.

Makka nearly bowls over Yuuri at their first meeting, eager to lick his face. She’s not normally so intensely affectionate, but Yuuri takes it in stride, laughing and petting her tight curls. “Such a good girl,” Yuuri says.

“My pride and joy,” Viktor says. This meeting has gone better than he could have hoped. He holds up Makka’s leather leash. “Who’s ready for a nice long walk?”

It isn’t far to the dog park, two blocks at most, but they make up for it by circling the area a few times. Makka gets to smell every tree trunk and bush in the area while they talk. At the beginning of their relationship, Viktor always felt like he had to take the conversational lead, asking questions and trying to draw Yuuri out, but weeks of working together have made their talks smooth and easy. Equal.

As he watches Yuuri run his fingers through Makkachin’s curly fur, Viktor resolves to talk to him about their relationship. He wants this.

 

* * *

 

“I just don’t understand what the draw is,” Viktor says, staring down at the carton of lo mein in his hands. Yuuri insisted that he try it, after discovering he’d never had take-out Chinese before.

“It’s cheap, it’s fast, it’s full of fat and carbs,” Yuuri says immediately. He’d nearly inhaled his portion, after working through an appetizer of cream cheese wontons. “It’s weird that you’ve never had it.”

Viktor clutches his heart. “Is my Yuuri calling calling me weird?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Viktor deflates. “Yuuriii,” he whines. “So cruel.”

In reality he isn’t too heartbroken, with Yuuri sitting next to him, thigh-to-thigh, on Viktor’s italian leather couch. They have one of Viktor’s favorite romance movies on the television: two star-crossed lovers navigate a world of elves, demons, and magic. He’d thought it might have enough fantastic elements to catch Yuuri’s interest, and he was right.

Viktor sets down his wooden chopsticks and the salty lo mein, then rests his arm casually on the couch behind Yuuri’s shoulders.

Yuuri hands him a small, plastic-wrapped cookie after he finishes his own meal and a portion of Viktor’s.

“What’s this?” The little yellow cookie is shaped like a folded half-moon.

“A fortune cookie. How have you-? Nevermind.” Yuuri says. Viktor can’t remember another time someone’s been comfortable enough to tease him. He watches Yuuri split open the treat with a snap, revealing a tiny little paper.

“What does yours say?” Viktor opens his own cookie. It’s crumbly and a little dry, with a hint of almond. “My fortune is apparently ‘Take the initiative’.”

“In bed,” Yuuri says immediately, then seems to realize what came out of his mouth. “I mean! Sorry, my best friend and I, we used to get take out a lot when we were roommates. We always added that to the end.”

Viktor laughs. “Take the initiative in bed. Duly noted, Yuuri.”

Yuuri scowls and turns pinker.

“What’s yours say?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri balls the paper up and shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth. “Nothing important.”

“That’s not fair! I read my cookie words to you, it’s only fair to share yours.” Viktor reaches for Yuuri’s hand in an attempt to get the paper. Yuuri pulls his fist in close to his chest, and Viktor follows, smiling bright, until suddenly they’re very, very close. Viktor is momentarily distracted by the delicate frame of Yuuri’s eyelashes and the warm brown of his eyes.

He doesn’t think. Just leans in to press his lips softly to Yuuri’s, eyes falling closed.

Before he can pull back and apologize, Yuuri’s kissing him back with feeling, sweet and deep. It’s a perfect moment, pressed together, with Viktor’s arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him in, Yuuri’s hand gripping the fabric of Viktor’s shirt.

It isn’t meant to last. Yuuri pulls away suddenly, stumbling away from the couch.

“I’m sorry!” he says. “Sorry.”

“Was it really that bad?” Viktor asks. _Are you always going to run away from me?_

“No! No, of course not.” Yuuri runs his hand through his hair. “It’s just. It’s complicated.”

“Have I been reading things wrong? We get along so well. I really like you.” Viktor can’t imagine being wrong about this. Yuuri clearly returns his feelings.

“I really like you too,” Yuuri says, and he sounds tortured. There are tears starting to pool in the corners of his eyes. “I always have. So much.”

Viktor doesn’t know what to do when people cry, and especially not when _Yuuri_ cries. “I’m not sure what the problem is, Yuuri. What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be just your colleague? Your friend? Your boyfriend?”

“I just want you to be yourself.” Yuuri rubs his eyes. He’s an ugly crier, face quickly becoming red and blotchy.

“I know you’re going through something right now. Yuri says you’re drinking, but that’s not it, is it?” Viktor gets off the couch and moves to stand closer. Makkachin, who had been napping on the rug nearby, gets up to nose Yuuri’s knee.

Yuuri covers his face and sobs.

“I don’t know what to do here. Should I just scent you again?” He’s at a loss.

“No!” Yuuri shouts. He continues, softer, “Just because I’m an omega, you can’t fix everything by scenting me.”

Viktor winces. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

“It’s not your fault.” Yuuri wipes his eyes with a balled fist. “I should explain. I’m, um.”

“You don’t have to explain.” Viktor keeps his voice soft, like he’s soothing Makkachin. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Yuuri laughs, a bitter thing. “You deserve to know. It’s probably affecting you, too. I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Shock, and weirdly a little hope. His eyes flick down to Yuuri’s flat stomach, then back up to his resigned face.

“I, um. My sister and her partner have been trying for a child for years now, so it’s for her. Them. I’m a surrogate,” Yuuri blurts out.

Ah. “Oh, Yuuri.” That explains the exhaustion, the vomiting. “Is that why you have those patches? Sorry! That was rude.”

Yuuri nods, miserable. “It’s okay. Yeah. I’ll start to show soon, so I guess you would have figured it out anyway.”

Viktor reaches out and pulls Yuuri into a tight hug, stroking his back slowly and pressing a kiss into his hair. Yuuri hugs back weakly.

“How far along?”

“Thirteen weeks. A little over three months.” Yuuri sniffles.

“If the patches aren’t working, let me help you!” Viktor says, determined. “I’ll support you in any way I can. What you’re doing is very brave and selfless.”

Yuuri laughs, self-deprecatingly. “It really isn’t. And you don’t have to. I refuse to be a burden.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Full disclosure. “It would be my pleasure.”

Yuuri clings back tighter.

“Thanks for telling me. Would you like to stay for another movie?” Viktor tries to keep his shock in check, to focus on what’s happening now.

“I’ll probably fall asleep,” Yuuri says, truthful.

“That’s fine.” Viktor leads him back to the couch. Makkachin, with the hubbub died down, pads away to inspect her water dish.

When they’re settled, Viktor asks, “Is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“All right,” Yuuri says. Viktor’s chest feels light and happy; his heart would have broken again had the answer been ‘no’.

They kiss, softly. Yuuri falls asleep approximately three minutes into the movie against Viktor’s shoulder, breathing deep and even.

 _Pregnant,_ Viktor thinks, and is surprised how little it changes things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuuri iSN'T THERE SOMETHING ELSE YOU HAVE TO SAYY
> 
> BAD DECISIONS


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) and [Auri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri) for the beta! Also thank you to the lovely [Nye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/Nyerus) for medical-checking <3 LOVE YOU GUYS

There’s a little Italian place open for lunch on the ground floor of Yuuri’s building, run by an old couple. It features dim lighting, red and white checkered tablecloths, and the overpowering scent of garlic infused in the walls. However, it’s inexpensive, quick, and slow enough that Yuuri can hole up there on a bad day when a plate of alfredo is his only salvation.

Today, he’s here with Phichit, catching up.

“So _then_ , I said, ‘You make the quiche’.” Phichit says around a mouth of garlic bread, laughing. Yuuri laughs too.

“I wish I could have been there.” Yuuri says, and means it. Phichit is a bright and sharp force of nature; Yuuri, an introvert, got up to a lot more interesting activities when they were together as roommates.

“Me too,” Phichit says. “So, how’s it going with Mr. Hottest Man Alive?”

“Phichit. That’s not his name.”

“No? I do seem to remember quite a long speech being given to everyone at Charlie’s Tavern about how _the hottest man alive_ had silver hair and blue eyes and a poodle. You insisted it was an inarguable fact of the universe, and I was very impressed at how well you projected while standing on the bar counter ten drinks in.”

 _“Phichit._ Come on,” Yuuri says, smiling. “Okay, maybe that happened a little.”

“So,” Phichit says, “Did you tell him?”

They’re in the corner booth; no one is nearby. The smile leaves Yuuri’s face.

“Not… exactly.” He knows he’s made a mistake and that Viktor deserves the truth, he does.

“I know it’s hard,” Phichit continues, softer. He’s always much softer than Yuuri deserves. “But he should know. It would be a different story if he was an asshole or something, but from everything you’ve said, he’s sweet and thinks you hung the stars in the sky. Besides, aren’t you dating?”

“We didn’t really get a chance to talk about it.” Yuuri thinks about leaning against Viktor’s shoulder, feeling the steady warmth of his arm around his shoulder. He thinks about their kisses. “But I think so?”

“You two really have to have a conversation about that, for starters. Secondly, what are you so scared of? What do you think is going to happen when you tell him?” Phichit asks, sensibly.

Viktor reacted surprisingly well to the pregnancy bombshell. What _is_ he so scared of?

“What if the only reason he’s with me is because I’m pregnant?” His voice is small.

“He moved his entire life to a completely different city after one night with you, Yuuri. Even before _you_ knew you were pregnant.” Phichit pushes his empty plate away and dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin.”Unless he can see the future, which would admittedly be awesome, I don’t think that’s possible.”

“I don’t even remember what I did that night,” Yuuri says. “Not even a little.”

“You could ask him!”

“Just because he spent one night with me and wants to pursue me doesn’t mean he’s interested in having _children together_.” Yuuri can feel his heartbeat starting to race. He grips his own thigh beneath the table, a steady point of pressure.

“It takes two people to make a child. He’s a part of this, even while he doesn’t know.” If Phichit had been argumentative, Yuuri’s defenses would have slammed down. Instead, his voice is even and reasonable.

“Viktor’s at the top of his career, I can’t do this to him. I can’t drag him down.” There are so many fears, all bundled together.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think that’s for him to decide.” Phichit’s phone buzzes with messages for the umpteenth time during lunch, but he doesn’t reach to check.

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Yuuri miserably takes a bite of his garlic bread, glad he’s been feeling less nauseous these past few days. With Viktor. “He offered to take me to my appointment today.”

“Perfect! Is he coming to pick you up? Can I meet him?” Phichit has been pushing to meet him from the beginning, but their schedules never lined up.

“Yeah! Yeah, you can meet him. Um, he said he wanted to meet you too, actually. Did you know he never had take-out Chinese food before we did together last week?”

“Did he live under a rock?” Phichit pushes Yuuri his own garlic bread, and Yuuri appreciates his sacrifice as he eats that too.

Yuuri thinks of VIktor’s chic apartment. “No, I think he’s just really, really wealthy.”

“Interesting. So, he’s driving you to your appointment this afternoon? How about I drop by and meet him, say hi, interrogate him a little? Social media stalking can tell you a lot, but not everything.” Phichit’s eyes glint.

Yuuri blinks. “Sure. I mean, you can meet him. The appointment is at 2, so he’ll be over soon.”

“Great! Now you finish up my garlic bread and we’ll head back. I’ll help you hide all of the articles and prints and books featuring Famous Designer Viktor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri had hid those weeks ago, actually. He flushes. “All right. Thanks, Phichit. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Anytime, Yuuri. It’s what friends are for.”

 

* * *

 

There isn’t much Viktor merch to hide, although Phichit does help him check. Everything is spotlessly clean; they usually hang out at Viktor’s apartment, this will be the first time he’s at Yuuri’s, albeit briefly.

There’s a knock, and before Yuuri can so much as get up off the couch, Phichit is running to answer.

“Hello~!” He says, full-on sunbeam cheer, to a blinking Viktor Nikiforov with an armful of flowers. He’s wearing a blue sweater that brings out the vivid color of his eyes. “You must be Viktor.”

“And you must be Phichit,” Viktor answers smoothly, smiling in return. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Wonderful, you passed the first test. You may enter.” Phichit holds the door wide and Viktor steps through.

“Phichit,” Yuuri scolds in an undertone. “Thanks so much for coming, Viktor.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Viktor presses the bouquet, blues and pinks and purples, forward into Yuuri’s arms. “If you have a vase, I can set those up for you.”

Yuuri buries his nose in a blue blossom, inhaling deeply. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Phichit holds his hands open for the bouquet. “I’ll get those in some water.”

“You’re the best, Phichit.” Viktor’s sweater looks very soft and cozy. Yuuri wants to bury his face into it, against Viktor’s sculpted chest and sweet heart.

“You have a lovely apartment,” Viktor says.

Yuuri laughs. “That’s very kind of you to say. It’s small and doesn’t get much sunlight, but it works out all right. I’d much rather spend time in yours!”

“Yuuri, your apartment is cute, but I’d agree that I’d much rather have you spend time in mine.” Viktor winks. “Or, I could bring Makkachin and we could enjoy ourselves here.”

Yuuri hadn’t actually meant it that way, but now he’s thinking about it that way. Viktor always leaves him warm and flustered. He fidgets with his sleeve. “Would you like to sit down for a bit? We don’t have to leave for another fifteen minutes or so, the clinic is nearby.”

Phichit sets the new vase of flowers on the tiny table by the couch, and sits in the loveseat across from Viktor and Yuuri.

Viktor’s arm slides naturally around Yuuri’s shoulders while they sit, thigh-to-thigh. He smells wonderful, Yuuri breathes deep as inconspicuously as he can.

“I heard you two were having lunch today,” Viktor says. “Was it good? Italian, right?”

“Yes, it always is. We had a good chat. Yuuri says he told you about the pregnancy?”

Phichit, always direct.

Yuuri coughs. “Yes, I mean. He’s taking me to my appointment today.”

“I was very relieved when Yuuri told me, to tell you the truth,” Viktor says. He reaches over and pats Yuuri’s thigh. “He was having so much trouble eating and sleeping, I was very concerned. I’m happy to hear it’s not an illness at all. And a surrogacy at that!”

“Mmhmm,” Phichit says.

Yuuri gets up abruptly. “Would anyone like a drink? I’m getting a ginger ale.”

Phichit and Viktor wave him off and go back to chatting while Yuuri puts himself back together in the kitchen. Yuuri has always idolized Viktor, but the real deal is so much better, kind and thoughtful. How is he going to tell him?

Yuuri barely has time to touch his drink before heading out for the appointment, letting VIktor and Phichit fill the space.

Yuuri can tell Phichit approves of VIktor, but he solidifies that by throwing Yuuri a double thumbs up as he leaves.

Viktor opens the door of his pink convertible for Yuuri and takes his place in the driver’s seat. The car is massive; the top is thankfully on in deference to the chilly weather.

“Would you like me to come into the clinic with you? There’s a coffee shop nearby, if you’re not comfortable with me in the waiting room.” Viktor shifts the car into drive and they merge into traffic. Soft classical music comes fills the car as the state-of-the-art stereo starts up.

Yuuri has always hated going into the clinic alone, unmarked and clearly without a mate. “You can come with if you want. It’ll probably just be boring, though.”

“I’m sure I can find something to do. They have magazines to look at, and fish tanks!”

“That’s dentists, I think. Fish tanks. There’s some art on the wall?”

“Ah,” Viktor says. He bites his perfect lip. “Actually, I’ve never been in a clinic; we’ve always had doctors come to us.”

Yuuri’s mind boggles at how astronomically expensive that must be, but he knows Viktor doesn’t like being reminded of how his wealth sets him apart. He reaches out and rests his palm on Viktor’s knee. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“It’s my pleasure. How often do you have to go to the clinic? I’d be happy to take you whenever I can.”

“I’ve been going every other week,” Yuuri says.

“Wow! I was doing a little research,” Viktor’s nose flushes, a tell, “and that seems like quite often.”

They make you come in more often when you’re losing weight and all your readings are coming back poorly. “Yes, well.”

“Better to be safe about it,” Viktor says, delicately closing the topic after Yuuri’s evasion.

_Viktor’s been doing research about my pregnancy._

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Viktor, there’s something I have to-”

A phone rings, sharp and loud, a chorus of alarm bells. Not Viktor’s usual classical ringtone.

Viktor winces. “Sorry, Yuuri. I have to take this.”

His car’s systems pick up the call at a touch of a button. “Hello, Yakov.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri recognizes the voice and the name; it’s the CEO of their company’s assistant. “I need you here, now. Things are getting very dicey with you-know-who after they found out you were off on a flight of fancy with your crush of the moment. Drop your little playtime; we’ve booked you a flight for the morning. I’ll need you all week to reassure them.”

Viktor’s eyes flash. “Yakov, Yuuri and I are in the middle of a very important collaboration-”

“You’ll be collaborating in the unemployment line together if they drop out, you know that. I’m sending you the flight details. It should only be a week, so don’t bring your mutt.”

Yuuri grips his own knees and tries to look out the window at passing buildings, away from the conversation he should not be overhearing. His stomach has sunk into the floor.

Viktor glances at him, looking anguished. “All right, just one week. That’s it. I mean it.”

“I’ll let you get back to your whims once things are stable, Vitya. I know how you mope when you’re away from your dog.”

“Fine.” Viktor hangs up. The perfect line of his jaw is tense.

Yuuri’s never seen him like this. Yakov’s words echo around his head.

We’ve barely been dating two weeks, Yuuri repeats to himself. It’ll be fine. A week away isn’t that long on the grand scheme of things even if it feels like an insurmountably long time now.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” Viktor says. “If I had a way out of it, I would take it.”

“It’ll be fine. I know you have lots of important things to take care of at the main office that I dragged you away from.” Yuuri’s voice sounds stiff to his own ears.

“He had no right to speak that way about you,” Viktor continues. “Being gruff is just his way, it’s how he shows his love.”

They pull into the lot of the clinic in an awkward silence. How can he reassure Viktor that it’s fine? That Yuuri’s not _that_ pathetic and needy?

Entering the office provides some distraction, at least.

“There _is_ a fish tank.” VIktor says, lightening the mood.

“You’re right. I never noticed.” Yuuri blinks around the waiting room as if seeing it for the first time: robin’s egg blue walls, framed paintings of idyllic landscapes, a small children’s play area with blocks and thick picture books. For being here so often, Yuuri was always too far in his own head to take it in.

Viktor smiles his plastic smile at the fish while Yuuri checks in.

When his name is called, Viktor doesn’t attempt to follow. Yuuri appreciates it.

The usual measurements and samples are taken: weight, blood, scent. He hopes they’re better than they have been, or he really will have to suck it up and wear the unpleasant patches. The nurse had even, mortifyingly, brought up the possibility of a caregiver alpha last visit; the entire concept of which is sickening to Yuuri.

“Well, Yuuri, I’m relieved,” The nurse begins, once she has results to review. “You’ve gained enough weight to put you on the low end of the healthy range. Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Yuuri had noticed the weight gain, both pleased and annoyed and the subtle slope of his belly. Just starting to show. On one hand, it’s critical for the baby that he takes care of himself; on the other, he’s struggled with weight his entire life.

“And your scent analysis is showing that you’re having a bit easier of a time.”

“Yes, the um. I’ve been spending time with the father,” Yuuri says. As a naturally private person, this kind of truth weighs heavy on Yuuri as he shares it, but she needs to know.

“Do you feel safe with the father?”

Yuuri blinks, blindsided by the question. “Yes. Yes, I feel very safe.”

“I just want you to know that if you ever do feel unsafe, or anything else ever does come up, this is a safe place to talk about it and get help.”

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate it.”

“We’re here to help.” The nurse smiles and stands. “Well, if you’re ready, let’s take a good look at that baby. I can walk you to your ultrasound.”

Yuuri stands and follows her to more private waiting area. He wonders if he’ll feel more of a connection to the grainy black and white blob on the screen than he did with the last scan.

The technician is different than the one before, a balding and bored looking male beta. He has Yuuri take off his shirt and lay down with streamlined efficiency, then begins the scan. The sticky gel is cold against Yuuri’s stomach; he tries to focus on his breathing as the technician gets his bearings, avoiding the screen.

“There we are!” The tech says after a time, a little warmth coming into his demeanor.

It’s a lot more distinct. Still blobby and small, but clearer. A vague silhouette of a head, a body.

Another head, another body.

“Congratulations, Mr. Katsuki. It’s definitely twins.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to [Hudebuc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hudebuc) for the beta <3

Viktor occupies himself on his phone in the waiting room, viciously ignoring 12 emails from Yakov and trying to find out if there’s any way he can expedite clearing up the trouble at the main office. Investors are a finicky bunch, but Viktor plans to soothe them quickly and get back to where he needs to be. He and Yuuri have a huge presentation next week; Viktor can’t afford to dart off and appease people.

These past two weeks have been glorious, with both of them spending almost all their time together. Viktor’s never been the clingy type, but Yuuri is so lovely and real that it makes him aware of how lonely, how empty he’d been before this. Dried up and blank.

He refuses to let anything interfere.

Viktor drafts up talking points to soothe the investors. When he gets stuck, he looks up at the fish tank in the office and lets his mind drift until the next idea comes.

Watching blue and yellow fish float dreamily in a landscape of plastic plants, he understands why clinics have them.

By the time Yuuri comes out, he has talking points and a presentation drafted. Viktor hopes to reassure Yuuri that he’ll be back in a day or two at most, armed with this.

The words die on his lips when he sees Yuuri’s face.

He’s white as a sheet. Viktor jumps up out of his chair and clenches his fists. He wants to pull Yuuri in for an immediate hug, but is unsure if that would be welcome in front of all these people.

Viktor’s hands hover in the vicinity of Yuuri’s shoulder. “Everything all right?”

Yuuri’s shoulders are hunched in and he’s gripping a manilla folder tightly, but he nods slightly. It isn’t reassuring. There must be something wrong with the baby. Viktor’s stomach drops, but he remains aware of the eyes on them in the waiting room. “Okay. Want to head out?”

He sees Yuuri’s chest rise and fall in a deep breath before they walk out together. The clinic has a medical-grade scent filtration system, but the second they’re in Viktor’s convertible he can sense the distress coming off of Yuuri in waves.

Pausing with the key inches from the ignition, Viktor asks quietly, “My apartment? Your apartment?”

“Yours.” The response is immediate.

Yuuri’s fingers are tight on the beige folder he walked out of the office with. Today was an ultrasound, he’d said. Pictures for Mari and Makoto.

The sound system starts up with quiet piano, and Viktor’s glad he had it set to a sedate station. He merges into traffic

“I worked hard while you were at your appointment,” Viktor says. “I won’t let Yakov keep me for an entire week.”

“That’s good,” Yuuri says. He pulls out his phone, blinks at its blank face, and then puts it away without turning it on. Viktor forces his attention back to the the road.

God, what if it is the baby? The timing makes it very likely. Yuuri had said his was a high-risk pregnancy. Viktor has approximately zero experience with pregnant people, and doesn’t have a lot to draw upon, although he had optimistically picked up a book. He wasn’t quite done with it yet, but the topics didn’t include this.

 _Don’t coddle him_ , he repeats to himself.

It’s not pity, it’s genuine concern, but he knows enough about Yuuri now and how he can’t tell the difference most of the time.

They arrive at Viktor’s apartment without incident. Makka greets them at the door, hungry for attention. Yuuri pats her on the head.

“Make yourself at home,” Viktor says. “I’m going to get this girl some dinner.”

Viktor joins Yuuri on the couch as the sound of Makkachin happily munching on her food bowl fills the apartment. Yuuri has his phone out again, but it’s not on, sitting blank in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it?” His words sit heavy in the silence.

Yuuri sets the phone down and looks at Viktor properly for what feels like the first time. “Oh, Viktor, I’m sorry to worry you. It’s nothing bad.”

Viktor relaxes in a breath. “Thank god. What is it, then?” He wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “If you want to tell me.”

Yuuri’s biting his lip. “I had my ultrasound today.”

He hands Viktor the folder. There’s a grainy black and white image inside that Viktor doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to interpret. He touches the edges of the image reverently none the less, because it’s of the little life inside Yuuri. “Everything all right?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s fine. They’re fine.” Yuuri points to a blobby shape. Viktor can’t really tell, but he nods. “It’s just, there’s two. It’s twins.”

_Twins._

Viktor’s mouth opens, soundlessly. That hadn’t even factored into the list of possibilities he’d considered.

Two cute little Yuuris. “Wow!” He glances helplessly down at Yuuri’s belly, hidden by a bulky sweater.

“Yeah. It’s.” Yuuri looks down at his own belly. “I just wasn’t expecting it, is all. Sorry to worry you again. Thank you for going with me and letting me come over. I know you’re busy getting ready for your trip.”

As if Viktor could deny him anything. God, he’s so relieved. “It’s a surprise, but it’s great news! Congratulations! Have you told Mari and Makoto?”

“No, not yet.” Yuuri closes up the folder and sets it on the table. “They know I had my ultrasound today, so I’m going to bring them the photo tomorrow. I think it’s best in person?”

Viktor pictures suddenly finding out that _he_ is having twins. “I bet they’ll be so excited. You said they had been trying for a long time?”

“Yes, years.” Yuuri looks down at his stomach again. “Oh, god, when they tell my mother she really will make good on her threat to move in and feed me.”

Viktor laughs. He’s charmed by Yuuri’s family: the little stories he tells about them, that casual closeness. If he’s honest with himself, he’s a little jealous. Viktor’s parents are by no means abusive, but their lives have always been so busy that at times Viktor feels more like an obligation than a son to them. “Not if I beat her to it. Maybe I can convince her to keep letting me take you out to dinner.”

Yuuri smiles, a slight upturn of his lips. “I’ll get fat if you keep taking me out to restaurants. Between the two of you, I’m already gaining weight.”

“You’re having _twins,_ Yuuri. I think some weight gain is expected!” Viktor curls Yuuri in tighter against his side and whispers in his ear, “Besides, I’m an alpha, it’s my job to feed you.”

From this close he gets a lovely view of Yuuri flushing. He presses a kiss to his cheek.

“Speaking of, what would you like tonight? I don’t have a lot of time to cook, since I want to get the presentation finished tonight.”

“Right! The presentation. I’m sorry, I can go home if you need time to prepare-” Yuuri tries to pull away.

Viktor won’t let him, though. “That’s nonsense, Yuuri. You’d be nothing but a help in get it done, if you’re up to it. I know your work and have looked at your presentation boards before, they’re inspiring.”

Yuuri laughs darkly. “Don’t lie. The last presentation I gave in front of you was the biggest failure of my career. I’m amazed you ever came to work with me, after all that.”

“That specific presentation was one of the worst I’ve ever seen, including my time as a student.” It really had been a meltdown. “But the work you do is phenomenal. The bones of it, the ideas behind it, were solid and beautiful. You only bring strength to our partnership. And you know I don’t mince words.”

Yuuri’s eyes are wet, but he’s smiling a little. “You really don’t.”

Viktor orders dinner while Yuuri looks over his work. He gives his own feedback, clear and confident; Viktor wouldn’t have it any other way. Things take a turn for the achingly domestic, as they take Makka on a walk while discussing improvements, and then sit together thigh-to-thigh on the couch to make edits on Viktor’s laptop.

As he is wont to do, Yuuri falls asleep early. He’d insisted over and over that he’s usually a night owl, but Viktor has yet to see it. He’ll have to wait until after the baby is born. Babies.

Yuuri is not a tiny, slight omega, he’s only a little shorter than Viktor. His frame, though, is thin: from the slim span of his shoulders to the slope of his waist. As he tucks a cashmere blanket over him, he thinks again about what Yuuri will look like when he really starts to show. Twins sound like so much on Yuuri, it’s hard to picture. Everything he’s read so far says that male omegas tend to have the most difficult pregnancies of all presentations, and twins can only add to the complications. It could be dangerous,

Viktor isn’t an idiot. He’s done the math, counting weeks, thinking back. There is a non-zero chance that those children are his, but not a certainty.

Yuuri has _never_ mentioned their night together, and they have spent so much time talking. Was he already pregnant when they met, as a favor to his sister? Is that why he’d been so insistent about not using protection?

Or is it the other scenario, the one that twists his stomach in knots? Had he been too drunk? Had Viktor taken advantage? The way he’d been dancing, talking, Viktor was so enchanted; surely no one who moved like _that_ was blackout drunk, but Yuuri is nothing if not a chain of endless surprises.

It’s been keeping him up at night, these worries, which is very unlike him.

Viktor reluctantly packs only a few days’ worth of clothing. He’s not checking a bag for this misadventure. He’s determined to be back quickly, to talk about it properly.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, touching his sleep-warm shoulder. It takes a few shakes before he blinks awake, frowning. “Your back will hurt if you spend the night out here.”

Yuuri pushes his face back into the couch cushion, dismissing him. He’s a hard man to part from sleep.

“Have it your way,” Viktor says, leaning down. By the time Yuuri starts to protest, he’s already in Viktor’s arms, held against his chest and still wrapped in a soft blanket.

Viktor scents him too for good measure, which seems to quiet him down, half-asleep as he is.

He’s not light, but Viktor has a personal trainer and is more than capable of lifting Yuuri easily and bringing him to his bed.

It would be the polite thing, the respectable thing, to leave Yuuri there and retreat to his guest bedroom. He certainly could have brought Yuuri to the guest bedroom, but he made a choice.

He’s human, and he’s weak, and they’ll be apart for days during this useless business trip. Yuuri’s pretty and soft and smells sweeter, more pregnant every day, now that Viktor knows what to look for. When he sets Yuuri down on the sheets of his own king-sized bed, he just turns and buries his face in a pillow, breathing deep.

Sleepy Yuuri is more similar to Drunk Yuuri in that way. He’s more honest. This bed smells completely like Viktor; there’s no way his scent isn’t all over it. Something primal inside him preens.

This is where Yuuri belongs, tucked in his bed, safe and lovely. Viktor reluctantly sets his phone alarm for far too early, takes care of his nightly routine, and crawls under the sheets gladly.

With the scent of Yuuri in his nose and the sweet music of his breathing in his ears, Viktor knows whatever happens, they’re going to be okay.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until they’re nearly on their way out the door that Viktor remembers about Makka, and he feels like the absolute scum of the earth. He sets down Makka’s full food bowl on the kitchen tile and frowns as she digs in. He could call his dogsitter on short notice, of course.

Yuuri’s standing in his kitchen, still wearing his clothes from the night before. Golden Sunday sunlight streams through the windows of Viktor’s kitchen and illuminates his face. Viktor is aware of how much warmer his apartment feels with Yuuri there, how much more real.

“Do you think you’d be able to watch Makka for me?” Viktor asks. “If it’s not too much trouble. I can give you my second set of keys. She gets lonely.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll watch her.” Yuuri’s hand is on his stomach, over the slight curve there. Viktor doesn’t think he’s aware he’s doing it.

 _“Thank you.”_ Makka will be much happier with Yuuri, he’s sure. His dogsitter here is nice (Viktor wouldn’t trust her to watch his dog if she didn’t have glowing referrals), but this is better. “In fact, you can stay here if you’d like. It’s closer to work, and I might need your help getting things from my files here. That is, if you’re okay with it.”

“I- Sure. I’ll stop by enough that she doesn’t feel lonely, don’t worry.”

Viktor kisses him on the cheek, lingering. “Thank you, Yuuri. I’ll be home before you know it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very kindly to quality humans [Hudebuc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hudebuc) and Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) for the beta <3

There’s a low rumbling, rhythmic and soothing, that pulls Yuuri out of scattered dreams. The sheets are soft against his skin and it’s truly a shame he has to move, but his alarm will go off soon and shatter the atmosphere thoroughly.

He reaches blindly for his phone on the nightstand and knocks over something in the process with a loud crash. The rumbling stops abruptly, and Yuuri snaps awake in a panic.

Even without his glasses, Yuuri can see he’s knocked over a lamp. Viktor’s lamp. It doesn’t look broken, thank goodness.

Putting on his glasses and silencing his phone for real, Yuuri reflects on just how pathetic he is.

Yes, technically, Viktor said he could stay in his apartment to take care of Makka. And yes, since Viktor’s apartment is closer to the office, he even has some extra time to enjoy Viktor’s bed before he has to leave. But staying in Viktor’s beautiful apartment only makes him slip further into misery, because he still hasn’t told Viktor the truth. It’s an awful and terrible state of affairs, mooching off his boyfriend’s goodwill while lying by omission.

Makka’s gently scratching at the door, so Yuuri forces himself up to take care of her needs. There’s still enough time for breakfast and taking her on a well-deserved walk.

Viktor’s been away for three days, with only a few, sparse texts comprising their contact: a good morning, a good night. Yuuri dutifully sent photos of Makka in the evening, to which he received a smattering of heart emojis.

Sure enough, there’s a “Good morning, sleeping beauty <3” on his lock screen.

The second Viktor is back, he’ll tell him the truth and accept the consequences. He will. For his sake, for the babies’ sake, for Mari and Makoto’s sake.

Luckily, his nausea hasn’t been terrible the last few days, so he gets a takeaway breakfast in the park while walking Makkachin. Her coloring looks very fitting amongst the bright fall leaves on the ground, and he snaps a photo for Viktor.

Will Viktor still want to talk to him after he finds out? There’s no defense for this, hiding the truth. What can he say? I’m sorry, Viktor. I was scared.

Every day the guilt compounds.

If Viktor still wants anything to do with him or not, these photos will live on his phone forever, a reminder of a happy day pretending.

He gets Makka back to the apartment with a little time to spare, so he lays down on the bed again and just breathes. In and out, slow and steady. The entire room smells strongly of Viktor, but especially the bed, and it makes him feel warm and tingly all over. Maybe everything will be okay. Viktor will at least listen to what he has to say, probably.

The rumbling starts up again, on the edge of his perception.

Oh.

He’s purring.

Cuddled up on Viktor’s bed, wrinkling his work clothes, purring low and deep.

Yuuri hasn’t purred since he was a small child, pressed up against his family, safe and content.

_Viktor._

 

* * *

 

Yuuri has always liked Mari’s partner, Makoto. She’s taller than Mari by a few inches, and sturdier built, but she’s always been ready with an easy smile. Where Mari is reticent, Makoto is open. He’d been so happy at their wedding he’d cried into his dinner napkin.

He can smell the sweet almond of her shampoo as Makoto pulls him into a hug. “How are you, Yuuri? How’s work?”

“Work’s busy,” Yuuri dodges. “My work partner is out of town, so I’m managing our project alone this week.”

“Awww, well hopefully they’ll be back soon.” Makoto gives him a final squeeze before letting go.

“Still having fun working with your celebrity?” Mari gives him a squeeze around the shoulders. Yuuri has never been subtle about his Viktor Nikiforov obsession, especially in regards to decorating his childhood bedroom. He flushes.

“Yes, it’s fun. He’s more of a dork than I thought.”

He appreciates they don’t jump right into baby questions, but he knows that’s what they’re eager to hear about.

“Everyone’s human, little brother. Even celebrity crushes. I’m happy you get to be with him.”

“About that,” Yuuri begins. Pauses.

“Yuuri,” Mari says in a different tone. She’s still great at reading him, even after all these years.

“What’s going on?” Makoto asks, biting her chapped lip.

“It’s nothing bad!” Yuuri is quick to reassure. “Don’t worry, really.”

“Too late. Out with it.”

“I know who the father is. So you’ll be able to get his health records and stuff, most likely.”

“Oh, Yuuri, that’s great news!” Makoto begins, before Mari cuts her off.

“Is the father perhaps a silver-haired designer? Very famous? Has a poodle?” Mari has the same glint in her eye when she’d catch Yuuri sneaking treats in the kitchen, seeing right through him when no one else could.

“Yes,” Yuuri says. Isn’t telling the truth supposed to be freeing? He feels heavy.

“Oh, Yuuri…” Mari runs a hand through her dyed hair. Makoto looks between them, missing the undercurrents of the conversation.

“It’s okay! It’s alright.” Yuuri insists. His mouth tastes like ash. “He’s very nice. We’re, um. He’s my boyfriend now.”

“Congratulations!” Makoto says.

“How long have you known?” Mari’s voice is flat and completely unlike Makoto’s. Yuuri flinches.

“A few weeks, now. I’m sorry.” He hangs his head.

“What am I missing?” Makoto asks, looking between them.

“This is trouble,” Mari says.

“Do you want to keep the baby?” Makoto asks. “We told you, honey, it’s completely up to you. We’ll be just as happy being aunties, and we have other options too.”

“We haven’t discussed that yet.” God, they are going to have to have that conversation, too.

“I’m worried about you, little brother.” Mari’s looking at him like he’s 6 years old again, hiding from a school field trip to avoid the inevitable situation of having no one to sit with or talk to.

Tears well up, unbidden. “I know.”

“What is it, is this guy a jerk?” Makoto asks.

Yuuri shakes his head furiously.

“He’s an alpha and you’re pregnant with his child,” Mari says. “Every instinct he has is telling him to care for you. It’s built in, basic stuff. I know how much you look up to this guy, but I don’t want to give you false hope.”

“Mari,” Makoto says, sharp. “That’s not fair. When I’m pregnant, you don’t care for me just because you’re an alpha. That’s oversimplification.”

“We’re mates,” Mari insists. “It’s different.”

“Is it really?”

That’s one of his fears, spoken plainly. Makoto pulls him into another hug, seeing the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“It’s not like that,” Yuuri says, muffled. He can feel his face flushing from the effort of holding himself in.

“I know you’ve always looked up to him,” Mari says, softer. “But if he’s such a great guy, why didn’t he come forward and say he was the one who knocked you up when you were drunk the second it was clear you were pregnant?”

“He doesn’t know!” Yuuri says hotly, pulling away from Makoto. Viktor’s done nothing wrong.

“Bullshit. You’re showing, Yuuri. You smell _crazy_ pregnant right now, there’s no hiding it.” Mari’s never been one to stand for ambiguity.

Now he is crying, full-on and ugly. “He doesn’t know they’re his! Okay? Viktor has done _nothing_ wrong. It’s all me! I haven’t told him yet!”

The silence stretches. Yuuri bites his lip and wipes his sore eyes.

“Fuck.” Mari says. She looks to Makoto. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to tell him the second I see him next. I swear it.” The way they’re looking at him has shifted to pity and he hates it.

“It’s all right, honey.” Makoto gives him a hug, gently releasing some of her own calming alpha pheromones. It irks him, but does help him relax.

“I came to bring you pictures,” Yuuri says, dully.

“Would you like to sit down? I’ll make some tea.” Makoto starts to retreat to do just that.

This is their moment, their happy memory, their first good look at their children; he’s ruining it. “Wait.”

Once you break the seal, everything spills out all at once. He hands the manilla folder to Mari and then collapses on their couch, exhausted. Makoto comes to look at the printouts.

“They’re twins,” Yuuri says. “I’m having twins.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they end up at their parent’s inn. It’s a sleepy weeknight and the downstairs area is thankfully uncrowded. Yuuri tries valiantly to deal with the mountain of food that been set before him, but it’s far more than anyone could eat alone. His mom had that look in her eyes as she set down each full bowl and plate that meant he couldn’t dare refuse, and Mari and Makoto were no help either.

The alpha couple had taken the news quite well, and when they’d broken the information to their parents the response had been somehow even more enthusiastic. The ultrasound photo was passed around and judged very impressive, surely the cutest babies to ever be created and captured on film.

Exhausted, Yuuri told them the rest of it too. He knows who the father is; they’re dating. He tactfully left out the part where the father doesn’t yet know he is the father, because Yuuri is determined to correct it the second he can get home and on a video call.

“Twins!” his mother says again, cupping her cheek and beaming. “Have you told Yuu-chan yet?”

Yuuri’s childhood friend had given birth to triplets a couple years ago. “Not yet.”

“I wonder if you’ll have to be on bed rest like her. The poor thing got so big at the end.”

Yuuko had been gigantic, carrying triplets on her tiny frame. If Yuuri is even half the size she was, nothing in his closet will fit apart from socks. “Ah, we’ll see. I hope not, since Viktor and I have so much work to do these next few months.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” his father says. “Your work will still be there, son.”

Mari ruffles his hair. “Let your Viktor take care of it.”

Yuuri bristles. He’s not giving up his work for this, not one bit. “Luckily we should be done with the largest part in the next few months. Then I’ll be able to take some time off. And I just sit at a desk most of the day, I can do that while pregnant just fine.”

His parents have never put the slightest bit of pressure on their children to have grandchildren, but he can tell that they’re excited for the future. They give him a gift box, which he opens later at Viktor’s apartment, with some maternity clothing and a gift card to purchase more.

Yuuri holds the pair of simple black pants, all stretchy fabric and elastic, and takes a moment to picture himself wearing them. This is real. He _will_ get bigger, a lot bigger, stretching beyond this pair in a few weeks. Some things you just can’t run from.

Makkachin, lonely from being in the apartment all day, jumps up on the couch next to him. He sets down the clothing and picks up his phone, ready to speak the truth one more time today.

Viktor picks up on the third ring. “Yuuri!”

He sounds tired, busy. Yuuri stands firm. “Hi, Viktor. Do you have time to talk?”

“Ah, I’m still at the office.” Yuuri can hear muted voices in the background, a phone ringing in the distance. “Let me just duck into an empty room first. Everything okay?”

Yuuri’s gripping his phone with white knuckles. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Makka misses you.”

She perks up at the mention of her name, eyeing the phone with interest.

“I miss her too! And you, of course. How are you both doing tonight?” There’s the sound of a door opening and closing; Viktor must have found a room.

“We’re doing just fine.” Yuuri realizes he’s clutching a Viktor-scented couch cushion far too tightly, so he switches to petting Makkachin’s soft curls. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy.”

“I’d much rather be spending time with you, believe me.” Viktor’s voice is as smooth and pleasant as ever, but Yuuri can detect the well-hidden frustration at his situation. “All right, I’ve found a good spot. What would you like to talk about?”

Yuuri breathes deep.

He can picture Viktor in an impeccable suit, sitting in the prestigious main office’s empty conference room. There are floor to ceiling windows behind him, showcasing the skyscraper district at night, glass and metal structures stretching off into the distance.

He deserves the truth, come what may. He deserves everything.

Yuuri swallows. “Viktor. Do you remember the night we met?”

“How could I forget?” His voice lights with pleasure. “One of the best nights of my life, you know. You swept me off my feet. I never stood a chance!”

God, how he wishes he could just _remember_. “I remember going to the bar that night, with everyone from work.” Yuuri says, slowly.

Viktor makes a soft sound, acknowledges he’s listening.

“They day hadn’t gone very well.” Understatement. “I really wanted to perform well, especially in front of you, but. Well, that didn’t work out. So when I got to the bar and everyone was trying to cheer me up, I couldn’t take it anymore. They bought me a few drinks, and then-”

“Yuuri, what are you saying?” His voice has changed. Viktor’s so smart.

Yuuri closes his eyes. He’s almost there. “I can hold my liquor really well. It runs in the family. And the alcohol was making me feel less awful, so I had a few more drinks, since we weren’t driving anywhere. So. The first time I remember speaking to you was the morning when you came up to my desk.”

“Yuuri-”

He can’t stop. “But my doctor says they can tell in my blood that I’ve been spending a lot of time around the um, father. So what I’m trying to say is they’re yours, Viktor- and you don’t have to do anything about it! I’m not expecting anything at all. I just. You deserve to know.” He trails off, miserable.

Silence.

“How long have you known?” There’s a tone in Viktor’s voice he can’t identify, tight and controlled. Yuuri flinches.

“A few weeks. I’m _so_ sorry.”

“Yuuri? Stay right there.” It’s a command.

Then he hangs up.

Yuuri’s left staring at a blank phone in Viktor’s apartment, as a soft static sets in. There. It’s done. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Makkachin starts to whine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the bestest of humans, [Athra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine) and [Auri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri), for the beta help!!

All the money in the world won’t allow Viktor to change airport flight schedules, but he tries. He calls his hotel, arranges for his luggage to be shipped home, and is at the airport service counter that night, straight from the office.

The quickest he can get is a 4:45am departure, which leaves a long stretch of time in the terminal to just sit, chin in hands, eyes unfocused.

Yuuri.

He doesn’t remember. Viktor had been an asshole alpha taking advantage of-- knocking up-- a drunk omega.

Only, that isn’t really the whole story. The Yuuri of that night was talkative and coordinated, leading dances without missing a step. Their night together was extremely, vocally consensual. Multiple, very fruitful times. They both had a drink or two, sure, but as for Yuuri being blackout drunk? Viktor had no way to tell.

He runs his fingers through his hair again.

Does that make him a father now? Of course it does. The little blobs on that ultrasound are half-him, half-Yuuri. His heart flutters insistently at the thought. Just because he had considered the possibility doesn’t mean accepting the reality is smooth and easy.

Viktor always had vague hopes of being a parent someday: one who was present, involved, and available. Basically, the opposite of his own. He just hadn’t considered it so soon. Yuuri’s not even 25 yet.

If Yuuri doesn’t remember their night together, there was no fault in hiding the truth from Viktor right away. Yuuri confessed that he hadn’t dated anyone seriously in years, during one of their post-work dinner dates. The pregnancy itself must have been a huge shock. Unless Yuuri was in the habit of casually sleeping around? Viktor dismisses that thought as soon as it enters his head.

Then there’s the surrogacy to consider. Yuuri has always been pretty cagey about the details; that makes more sense now. His sister and her partner are quite real, and the genuine emotion in Yuuri’s voice when he spoke about them trying and failing to conceive can’t be a falsehood.

A clearer picture starts to form. Yuuri, suddenly pregnant, at a low point in his career, organizing something with his sister that gives Mari a child and gives Yuuri a cover story to tell the world and to protect his pride. Surrogacy, arranged after-the-fact.

And then, Yuuri learned they were Viktor’s. And kept it to himself. How long, exactly? Before they began dating? After? Viktor forces himself to relax his hands when he realizes he was gripping the fabric of his pants far too tightly. God, he needs to talk to Yuuri.

Prerecorded messages echo through the empty terminal as Viktor waits and thinks.

 

* * *

 

By the time Viktor arrives at his own apartment, he is quiet inside, heavy but still.

Makka greets him at the door, desperate for affection. He pets her soft curls of fur and leans down to give her a hug, laughing as she covers his face with doggy kisses. He hates being away from her; they’re equally clingy.

She isn’t leading him to the food dish or trying to push him outside, already fed and walked this morning. Her water bowl is freshly filled.

“Did you have a good time with Yuuri?” He asks.

Makkachin’s tongue lolls out as she leans her body weight further into Viktor.

“Of course you did.”

Yuuri’s coat isn’t on the peg, his shoes aren’t neatly stacked by the entrance. He didn’t stay.

It’s still a workday, so it’s quite possible that’s where Yuuri has gone. Viktor still feels bad for making him work alone all week, so it’s unfair of him, he knows, to wish that Yuuri had stayed put right here as he asked. They need to talk, and the office is not the right place to do it.

He gets out his phone and dials his favorite intern.

“Hello, Viktor.” There must be someone in the room with Yuri, for the call to start so politely. “I thought you left all your work to Katsuki this week. What do you need?”

The insults are implied. “Is he in the office, by chance?”

“How would I know?” Yuri huffs. “It’s not my job to keep track of him. Last I heard, I wasn’t your secretary.”

“Yuri,” Viktor says. “Please.”

“Ugh.” Yuri’s voice gets softer. “No, he isn’t here yet.”

“Thanks. Text me if he gets in, okay?”

“Fine.” Yuri hangs up. He’s a good kid.

Viktor washes his face in the bathroom sink, quick and precise, then pauses to meet the eyes of his reflection. His hair is a mess, his rumpled suit a tragedy; normally he wouldn’t be caught dead outside in this state. Today he doesn’t care.

The drive to Yuuri’s apartment is quick, rush hour long over. Viktor takes a deep breath outside Yuuri’s door, feeling all the emotions of the last night settle in deep and steady.

There was never really a question, right? Merely certainty.

He knocks, three solid raps on the wooden door. “Yuuri?”

The apartment is silent, just like the hallway. Most people aren’t home this time of day.

There isn’t an answer right away, but then again he wasn’t expecting one. He’s about to knock again when he hears a faint shuffle, then the door unlocking. It doesn’t open.

“Yuuri,” Viktor repeats. _Please let me in._

It takes a few, heavy moments before the door opens just enough for Yuuri to peer out. The dark circles under his eyes are back and his hair is just as rumpled as Viktor’s.

“C-come on in,” he says, voice rough, not meeting Viktor’s eyes. He pushes the door open further and Viktor doesn’t miss the jerky quality to the movement, the fine tremble in his arm. “I’ll make you some tea.”

It makes his heart twist. Viktor steps in and toes off his shoes, taking in the apartment. The drapes are drawn tight against the autumn light, and the air smells stuffy with distress. Viktor’s eyes catch on small, pathetic pile of old sheets and Yuuri’s coat, tucked into a protected corner of the living room. He can just barely make out the shape of his own scarf set on top.

Yuuri comes back with two mugs from the kitchen, then catches Viktor’s gaze and blanches.

Viktor closes the distance between them and takes the mugs before Yuuri can retreat, feeling awful that he brought attention to the nest. Nests aren’t something consciously made, for the most part, and only tend to pop up outside of heats and actual childbearing during times of high stress and instability.

Deliberately, Viktor sets the mugs down on the living room table, then returns in a few, quick strides to wrap Yuuri tightly in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “Why are you sorry?”

Viktor holds him tighter, breathes in his sweet scent, steeped in anxiety. “I wasn’t here for you. I could have easily reached out, after we met, but I wanted to make a grand entrance. It was stupid vanity. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri’s still stiff in his arms. “Viktor, it’s not your fault. I _lied_ to you. I could have told you any time these last few weeks, but I kept it to myself because I’m too pathetic to deal with the consequences. You should be furious.”

“No. No, Yuuri.” Viktor has never been good with the softer emotions, the delicate interplay of personal relationships. He’s always been isolated, apart; happily so. Now he feels exposed, all his sharp edges glinting in the light. “I took advantage of you and then disappeared. Yes, you should have told me, but that’s by far the lesser issue.”

Yuuri does push him away then, hands firm on his chest. His eyes flash as he yells. “This isn’t your fault! I’m a convincing drunk, it’s a genetic thing. There’s no way you could have known that one night together was enough to- to cause this!”

“I don’t think either of us had a plan like this,” Viktor says. His voice is still even, but heavy with conviction.

Yuuri deflates, shoulders drooping in surrender. “No.”

Viktor’s arms are still open a little in invitation. “So what now, Yuuri?”

Yuuri meets his eyes briefly, then glances down. “T-that’s up to you. I just.” Yuuri’s hands curl into fists at his side. “I just want you to know that I’m glad they’re yours. It’s easier for me to deal with carrying them if they’re from you.”

Viktor can’t help but glance at Yuuri’s belly. He’s in a sleep shirt and a long set of pajamas pants, and the delicate curve of it draws him in. His voice is tight. _“Yuuri.”_

When Viktor looks back up to Yuuri’s face, it’s already getting blotchy and red with repressed tears. He breathes in with a stuttering sob and wipes furiously at his eyes, and Viktor feels it as a pain in his own chest, sharp and radiating.

Yuuri looks small and lost, two words that contrast utterly with the strength, beauty, and confidence that make up the core of his being. Viktor steps forward again, one step, two, until he’s curling around Yuuri once more, arms steady and certain around his shoulders and waist. The sobbing gets worse, a floodgate opened, but Yuuri leans into his shoulder instead of away. His fingers grip Viktor’s coat in great fistfulls.

Viktor doesn’t have the smooth, emotional words to fix this, to be a comfort. He presses his face into Yuuri’s soft black hair, nuzzling gently, and focuses on being a solid and strong presence to shore him up while everything is crashing down.

“I’m glad they’re mine, too.” Viktor says.

It takes some time for him to quiet down, sobs trailing into sniffles, sniffles trailing into a different kind of silence: not heavy, more relaxed. _How long has he been holding that in?_ Viktor wonders. He runs the flat of his palm up and down Yuuri’s spine.

“Sorry,” Yuuri mumbles, rough and muffled against Viktor’s damp shoulder.

Viktor gives him a comforting squeeze. “Nothing to apologize for.”

Yuuri pulls back a few inches, reluctantly. “We have to go in to the office. We’re really late.”

“I think we’re working from home today.” Viktor tilts up Yuuri’s chin with one finger and searches his eyes.

Yuuri laughs once, roughly. “You can probably get away with that.”

“We both certainly can.” There are no meetings scheduled for the day, anyway. “How about we eat breakfast and then go over what’s been going on while I was away?”

Yuuri’s grateful for the distraction, already nodding. “All right. I brought my laptop home, and I can catch you up pretty quickly.”

“Perfect.”

Yuuri wipes his eyes again. He’s still all blotchy and red, but clearly thankful to be able to dive into work. Viktor glances towards Yuuri’s kitchen. He doesn’t like sweet things for breakfast, which is tragic, but Viktor is confident enough that he can probably google his way through cooking rice and miso.

“Tell me all about yesterday’s meeting while I get us something to eat.”

Yuuri follows him into the kitchen with his laptop, then sits at the counter and fills Viktor in. He has to stop partway through to gently assist Viktor with the rice cooker, much to Viktor’s shame. It has many more buttons than he anticipated, and each of them is in kanji.

It’s nice, sweet and domestic. Viktor could get used to this every morning.

Maybe he can?

Yuuri takes over for the miso too, after watching him struggle. Viktor watches, memorizing each step for next time.

 

* * *

 

Work does occupy most of their day, and as Viktor suspected, Yuuri seems glad for it. They order take-out Chinese for dinner, after Viktor finds himself oddly craving it in all its fried and salty glory. If his mother saw him eating it she’d be appalled, which Viktor views as a definite plus.

She also would not have approved of the way they’re eating in the living room on Yuuri’s worn couch and scratched coffee table. Yuuri’s apartment doesn’t have enough space for a dining room and it truly isn’t a loss.

Viktor shares the details of the needlessly nervous investors he’d been summoned to take care of, and Yuuri, having already filled him in on their own work, tells him about how Yuri had checked in on him every day, with a flimsier and flimsier excuse each time. Truly a good kid.

“I felt bad because he kept bringing me coffee,” Yuuri says, “and I can only drink decaf. Eventually he caught on.”

“That sounds very familiar,” Viktor says, laughing.

“I probably should have just told him,” Yuuri admits. “I will on Monday.”

“I shouldn’t have hung up on you last night,” Viktor says.

Yuuri sets down his chopsticks. “It’s all right. I kind of dropped a bomb on you.”

He really had. “Still.”

“And I want you to know, really, that just because I chose to keep them doesn’t mean you’re obligated to anything. I know hormones are powerful things, especially between alphas and omegas with pregnancy in the mix.” Yuuri’s voice is quick and passionate; this has been weighing on him, clearly. “I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Viktor’s honestly frustrated, but showing that would only hurt so he keeps it from the surface. “I’m not trapped, Yuuri. I’m exactly where I want to be. Our dynamics are part of ourselves but not our whole selves. Please don’t think so little of me that I’d be swayed by something like that. I moved my life for you without the influence of anything but affection.”

Yuuri leans into him suddenly, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s neck. Viktor hugs him right back.

“Are you dating me because you’re pregnant with my children?” Viktor asks, to prove a point.

“No,” Yuuri says, confident and with feeling. “No, Viktor. I’ve admired you for most of my life, I’ve dreamed of one day being on the same level as you, being an omega has absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“I know, Yuuri.” Viktor kisses the hollow behind his ear. “So please, give my feelings the same respect.”

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri’s embrace tightens.

“It’s all right.” Yuuri feels so good in his arms. It would be ideal if they could curl up here all evening, but unfortunately real life pauses for no one.

“Come to my place?” Viktor asks, much sooner than he’d prefer. “I need to take care of Makka, and I don’t want to be apart from you right now.”

Yuuri nods. “Of course. Let me get my things.”

It takes some time to find Yuuri’s jacket, until they awkwardly realize that it is buried in his stress nest. Viktor pretends not to notice, waiting until Yuuri has his jacket on to come over and wrap his scarf snugly around his neck.

Makka is very happy to see them both, devouring her food and demanding a walk. It’s a pleasant autumn evening, and Viktor walks with one arm around Yuuri’s waist and the other holding Makka’s leash. Every once in a while they lean down and kiss, casual and chaste. Sunset comes and goes, and it’s just chilly enough that both their cheeks are painted red with cold at the end.

Viktor wants and wants and wants.

By unspoken agreement, Yuuri stays the night. They take turns showering, and when Yuuri comes to bed with damp hair and no glasses, wearing Viktor’s sleep shirt, he can’t help it. He pulls Yuuri into his lap on the bed and kisses him soundly. Yuuri’s stiff for only a minute before he melts, straddling Viktor more firmly and taking more control of the kiss. Viktor’s hands roam everywhere, under the t-shirt to stroke Yuuri’s back and down, lower, to grip the firm and plush meat of his ass.

The shower has stripped Viktor’s scent from his skin, which is unacceptable. He scents Yuuri thoroughly and is delighted when Yuuri scents him back just as fiercely.

“I want absolutely everyone to know you’re mine,” Yuuri says, as Viktor nips at the sensitive skin of his neck, and _oh_ , that’s the kind of delightfully surprising thing that Viktor adores.

“All yours, solnyshko,” Viktor says, fully truthful. He bites down on Yuuri’s neck, not hard enough to break the skin, and the whimper he gets in reply goes straight to his cock. “All yours.”

The shirt’s only getting in the way, so Viktor pulls it over Yuuri’s head smoothly until they’re both sitting in their underwear, equally aroused. Yuuri clutches Viktor’s shoulders and grinds down into him, eyes closed and lost to the pleasure.

“I don’t,” Yuuri gasps, “I don’t remember the first time we did this, can you help remind me?” Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s ass again, pulling him even closer and claiming his mouth in a searing kiss. He can feel the wet of Yuuri’s slick against his thighs, can smell it in the air.

It doesn’t take much to flip their positions, easily spreading Yuuri out before him on his bed, although it does change the dynamic. Viktor is filled with such tenderness, such love, for this beautiful person. He takes a moment to appreciate the picture he makes there against the sheets: the curl of his hair against the pillows, the warm brown of his eyes, and the soft curve of his pregnant belly. Viktor leans down and kisses a trail from his chest to his belly button, heart full.

Yuuri laughs breathlessly and pulls him back up for a kiss.

Compared to their first time, it’s slower, more intimate. He _knows_ so much more about Yuuri now, his quirks and his habits. Viktor kisses his way back down Yuuri’s chest and lower, to the elastic of his briefs. Yuuri impatiently tugs them down, and Viktor gets rid of his own as well in a smooth motion, until every part of them is skin-to-skin.

Viktor takes Yuuri’s sweet little cock into his mouth as he fingers him open, delighting in the way he gasps and moans. Yuuri gets impatient, grinding down on Viktor’s fingers, but he won’t be hurried, keeping up his gentle pace. Yuuri deserves the absolute best, and Viktor doesn’t do things by half measures.

When Viktor is finally satisfied, Yuuri is boneless and sweaty against the sheets, panting harshly. He’s so very pretty.

Dreamlike, Viktor grabs Yuuri’s hand, uncurls his fingers, and presses a sweet kiss to the center of his palm. “Everything okay?” His voice comes out rough.

It takes a few breaths for Yuuri to pull himself together enough to say, “Yes, yes, Viktor, _please._ ”

Yuuri’s just as deliciously tight as that first time, accepting Viktor’s cock easily. Their shared scents have filled the air, and Viktor breathes them in as he pulls out and presses forward again, setting up a solid, slow pace that has Yuuri mewling. Viktor refuses to leave a space or a moment for Yuuri to feel alone or unhappy, and it feels so good, so perfect, Yuuri gasping and coming undone below him.

As he comes, Yuuri buries his faces in Viktor’s neck, pressing his wet cheek against the mating gland there. It’s enough to make Viktor come as well, hips stuttering. One definite perk of being pregnant is the complete lack of need for protection. They can be as close as possible.

They should take another shower, considering the mess they’ve just made, but neither of them can summon the energy to do more than cuddle, spooning together. Viktor rests his hands over Yuuri’s pregnant belly and thinks, _I love every amazing part of you._

The cold wind blows outside but they stay safe and warm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you so much for taking the time to read my self-indulgent Victuuri mpreg. I truly appreciate it. This was a joy to write.  
> (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡
> 
> Special thanks to Athra, for talking me through some plot snarls and being a fantastic emotional sounding board.
> 
> And special special thanks to Ren ([lilithiumwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords)) and Athra ([getaway_machine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)) for their beta work on this chapter <3

The one angle Yuuri hadn’t worried about is the office, ironically, and what it means is that he’s carrying the children of his coworker/superior (technically). When he does consider it, he can’t stop thinking about it. Will Viktor get in trouble? Will they lose their jobs? Yuuri is pregnant with twins and smelling like _Eau de Viktor_ ; neither of these things can be easily hidden.

When he shares this with Viktor, he has the nerve to laugh at him.

“Yuuri, I’m not your boss! It would have been awfully dumb of me to head here to court you and then put myself in a position where I’m not allowed to do it. We’re just collaborating, that’s all. Technically, I’m still employed at the main office.”

Yuuri hadn’t known that, no. It’s reassuring all the same.

Pregnancy is incredibly exhausting. His belly does not stay a gentle curve, instead ballooning out and making it difficult to walk up stairs. Yuuri nearly trips over his own feet more than once, his balance is so out of sorts. It’s lucky he hasn’t yet fallen.

The more pregnant Yuuri looks, the more Viktor seems to preen. When they walk together, it’s with Viktor’s arm firmly around Yuuri’s shoulders. Viktor scents him a few times per day, enough that they’re probably giving everyone else a headache, and the soothing aroma helps dull the pain of his sore back and feet. Freshly scented, Yuuri feels relaxed and safe and a little dazed; the feeling is so powerful that Yuuri forbids Viktor from doing it at work, since he’s afraid he’ll end up napping at their desks. No one at the office so much as bats an eye at their relationship, and Yuuri realizes that this is because a good number of them were either at the bar that fateful night or had heard all the gossip.

Their final fashion line is approved with great fanfare, and they both are caught up with the launch, working heavy hours together to make sure all the details are right. Yuuri is fiercely proud of their work, and it pleases him a little to now understand all the homages to the night they met worked into the color palette and fabric choices. It’s exhilarating; a dream come true.

When Yuri catches onto the pregnancy, he punches Viktor in the arm and then slinks back the next day with a few soft stuffed pastel tigers in a gift bag.

Tonight’s the night of their promotional runway show. Yuuri keeps tugging at the outfit Viktor picked out for him; it feels too flashy, drawing way too much attention to his stomach. The long-sleeved shirt is deep red and tight, hugging every curve. At least there is a black unbuttoned jacket that he can hide in to a degree, and dress pants with a very generously stretchy waist. He’d wanted to wear another oversized sweater, but Viktor had coaxed him into this.

They’re working with about eight models for their specific line, but the rest of the season is launching too, so there are beautiful, tall, skinny models walking on perfect thin legs from stylist to stylist backstage. It’s chaos. Yuuri tries and fails to hide in his jacket and fade into the wall. He’s proud, fiercely so, of their hard work and creation, but Yuuri is useless here backstage and he hates feeling that way.

Just about every model in the place has stopped to ask him when he’s due and seemed surprised that the due date is still three months away. Twins, he explains. Viktor’s babies, he doesn’t have to add. They dutifully coo.

God, if he’s this big at six months, how will he look at nine!? How did Yuuko do this with triplets?

Viktor’s been coming to his doctor appointments and sitting in for every scan. Yuuri’s pregnancy is still by definition high-risk, but all his metrics have been improving steadily with Viktor’s warm presence by his side.

Backstage, Yuuri walks in circles, trying to find a place where he is least in the way, and scolds himself for desperately wishing he was near Viktor.

“Yuuri!” A tall woman flags him down, smiling. She looks really familiar, but she’s not one of the models and is holding a clipboard.

“Hello,” Yuuri says, waiting for a request or another indicator.

“It’s so good to see you again,” she gushes. “Ah, I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met at the trade show a while back?”

Abruptly, he does remember. The beautiful omega he’d nearly growled at; Yuuri fights back a guilty flush. “Natalie! Of course I remember. Thank you so much for all your help.”

“It’s no trouble at all! It’s an honor to help out a few of my favorite designers.” Yuuri has to tilt his head back to look at her, she’s model-tall. “Actually, that’s why I flagged you down. I was wondering, would it be okay to get a selfie with you?”

Yuuri gapes like a fish and bites back a _why_. “Um, sure. Of course!”

“Thank you so much!” Natalie has to stoop down a bit to get into frame with him, but she looks delighted about it. The camera clicks and captures her wide and perfect grin next to Yuuri’s bemused smile.

“Apologies if this is rude, but I just wanted to say that pregnancy really suits you. Your skin is just glowing! I can see why Viktor Nikiforov dropped everything to chase you.”

Yuuri squares his shoulders. “Thank you.”

He braces for the questions about due dates and genders and baby names, but Natalie doesn’t linger. The bustle around them is increasing as showtime gets closer.

Yuri intercepts him before Yuuri can find Viktor. His outfit is an exercise in pattern clashing, dozens of animal prints in an retina-blinding grid. His spiked leather boots go all the way up to his knees. Somehow, he makes it work, and that’s perhaps the root of why Yuri is such a prodigy at what he does.

“Hello, Yuri.” Like himself, Yuri probably doesn’t have much to do backstage.

Yuri nods in greeting. “Where did your idiot go?”

Yuuri gestures vaguely. “Dealing with a few last minute things. Can I help you with something?’

“My internship is almost over, and I’ll be heading back to the main office soon.”

Yes, the date of that is coming very quickly. “Do you have any plans for afterwards?”

“I’m going to study abroad. Getting out of this mess around here and trying something fresh. They’re doing some really cool things in Europe.”

Going abroad will also get him out of the sphere of influence of his powerful family and allow him to shine on his own. “I’m happy to hear that. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Is it the dim lighting, or is Yuri blushing? “So I just wanted you to know not to get complacent while I’m gone. When I get back, you’re going to have to fight for a spot for your work on the runway. All the stores will be filled with mine instead.”

Yuuri wants to laugh, he’s so pleased, but he knows Yuri wouldn’t take it well. Instead, he holds out his hand. “I look forward to it.”

Yuri takes his offered hand and shakes it, smiling wide and looking about five years younger. “You better be ready!”

Yuuri is really going to miss him. By the time he comes back with his degree, the twins will probably be in preschool, and that is quite the thought.

A gift bag is shoved into his line of sight. “So your kids have something cool to wear,” Yuri explains, before bolting off.

Inside the bag are two newborn onesies, one covered in a soft yellow pattern of a roaring lion and the other with small orange tigers. There are tiny matching animal ear hats, no tags -- clearly handmade all the way. Yuuri feels his eyes burn a little and curses pregnancy hormones.

He looks for a place to sit down and maybe stash the present, but there isn’t really a quiet corner to retreat to.

Maybe he should track down some water, since he’s suddenly feeling very faint and dizzy. Yuuri is forced to slide down a wall and sit with his butt on the cold concrete floor of the least busy area. This… isn’t good. He puts his head in his hands and breathes, slow and even.

Viktor finds him there somehow. Yuuri blinks and suddenly Viktor is kneeling down in front of him, while a few models in half-dress hover nearby. Yuuri groans because this is the last thing he wanted, to make a scene and distract everyone. “Yuuri, sweetheart, are you feeling okay?”

“Yes!” he responds immediately. “Sorry, I’m just feeling tired. No need to worry.”

Viktor doesn’t believe him for a second, but the models shuffle away. Yuuri slumps when their gazes aren’t on him anymore. “Yuuri,” Viktor says, prompting.

He doesn’t want to worry him but he’s learned that hiding from Viktor only makes things worse. “Dizzy. Think I was just standing too long. Yuri made us onesies.”

Viktor leans in and scents him softly, and the haze that follows keeps Yuuri from protesting too much as he’s bodily picked up and tucked against Viktor’s chest for support.

Viktor and Yuuri have reserved seats for the show on the small, single-row balcony. It doesn’t have as good of a view as the already-full lower level of the venue, but it has less people to watch him get carried there and set in a seat. Viktor kneels before him. “Still dizzy?”

Yuuri nods.

“I’m going to get some water, be right back.”

The show is going to start in about half an hour. Yuuri is very grateful that they aren’t really needed backstage, because he feels a lot better up here in the relative quiet. He puts a hand on his belly and closes his eyes. They’ve been moving around a lot the past few weeks, seemingly egging each other on, but now they’re relatively still.

He’s never felt this dizzy before, though. A new panic slips in. Are they okay? Is something wrong? Should he be rushing to the doctor right now?

Yuuri gets out his phone to google it, but pauses with the search query half-filled. He can’t remember a time where online research has explained exactly what’s going on. Historically, it only makes him more nervous.

Viktor returns with a water and a ginger ale, no doubt hastily purchased from the cocktail bar in the lobby. Yuuri sets down his phone and takes a few sips, gratefully. Viktor slides in next to him and wraps his arm around his shoulder. “Okay?” he whispers in his ear.

Yuuri honestly isn’t sure. The ginger ale seemed to help. “Yes. Thank you.”

The seats around them fill up and the lights dim. For once, Yuuri feels no doubt at all about a debut. He and Viktor made this with all their energy, all their love. The world will love it.

And they do.

 

* * *

 

The dizziness continues, unfortunately, and Yuuri is put on bedrest, which his pride cannot bear. It makes it harder to see Viktor, for one, even though he stays over almost every night. It’s a huge strain on both of them. Yuuri is frustrated and somehow impossibly more pregnant when Mari and Makoto stop by for a visit.

“How are you feeling?” Makoto asks, the second they’re both through the door. She wraps him up in a hug.

“Large,” Yuuri says, blunt.

“No kidding,” Mari says. She’s holding a promising looking takeout bag. “We brought lunch.”

They set up to eat in the living room, sharing entrees between them all. Mari and Makoto were visiting their parents this morning at the inn and bring news of the latest gossip. It’s a nice break to take his mind off things.

“So, Yuuri, in the effort to not do the same thing you did, we have some news for you,” Mari says, voice serious.

Yuuri’s heart starts to beat faster. Mari’s voice reminds him suddenly of when she’d called to say something had happened to Vicchan.

“It’s nothing bad!” Makoto is quick to add. “Really, it isn’t.”

Yuuri’s not so quick to relax. “What’s going on?”

“Well,” Makoto begins, somewhat awkward. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m pregnant again. The only reason we didn’t tell you sooner was because we weren’t sure with my… history, but as of yesterday I’m almost four months along and everything is looking healthy.”

Yuuri blinks, blindsided by this revelation.

“I guess once the pressure of trying was off, it stuck,” Mari adds. She wraps an arm around her mate’s waist.

He puts a hand to his own stomach reflexively, because this changes things. “Congratulations!”

“Yuuri, we just wanted to make sure you know all the information, okay? I know you’ve talked with Viktor, and we’re happy to take on all three -- we’ll just ask for some tips from your friend Yuuko. We couldn’t dream of being more blessed,” Makoto says. “But we know you, Yuuri.”

“Your pride won’t allow you to _let us down_ , but little brother I want you to be selfish here and think about this with Viktor. Don’t worry about us, okay? We support whatever you decide.” Mari says, ruffling Yuuri’s hair.

“A-all right, _nee-san_ ,” Yuuri says. He feels a little like the world is spinning.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri hadn’t let himself think of keeping them, not really. He’d already promised Mari and Makoto and knew they would be excellent parents. He thinks about it all afternoon as he does his remote office work, and his productivity is much lower as a result.

He and Viktor haven’t really been together that long. It’s absolutely crazy. Yes, he’d always seen himself with kids someday, and lately those daydreams had featured Viktor quite prominently, but jumping in right now would be ridiculous.

Right?

Except, he and Viktor work together so well. Viktor fits beside him like no one ever has. If it was possible to bond during pregnancy he’d have already bared his neck, and that’s saying something for Yuuri, who reflexively pushes away affection. Viktor’s bright, sincere, not perfect but a truly good person, a real person who loves him.

The gift from Yuri is still on his coffee table. He gets out the little onesies again. They’re so small. He’d meant to hand them to Mari and Makoto.

He hears Viktor’s key in the lock and perks up. “Yuuri!” Viktor says. There’s the sound of poodle paws on the hardwood, Viktor brought Makkachin again. “Don’t get up,” Viktor says, when he sees Yuuri starting to rise.

Makka comes over to get her pets, resting her head on Yuuri’s knee and closing her eyes in joy.

Viktor leans down and kisses Yuuri on the cheek, then hands him a small bag with the emblem of a very fancy bakery stamped on the front. Inside is a beautiful single strawberry tart that probably cost more than a few cartons of strawberries. “Treat for you.”

“Treat for you, too,” Yuuri says, taking the beautiful pastry out of the bag. “We always share. I won’t be able to do this once I’m not pregnant, you know. I gain weight too easily for that.”

“Hmmm,” Viktor says, which isn’t an agreement, merely a sidestep. Viktor likes feeding him too much.

“Makoto’s pregnant,” he blurts out. The truth is like ripping off a bandaid, you just have to do it all in one go.

Viktor swallows his bite of strawberries and cream. “That’s good news, yes?”

“Ah, yes,” Yuuri says. He sets down his fork. “Very good news.”

There are a lot of ways this conversation can go, and he’s afraid of most of them. Still, he carries on. “She’s about four months along this time, so it’s going well. They just told me over lunch.”

Viktor’s unfairly good at seeing through him. He sets down his own fork and wraps his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. For a brief moment, Yuuri just breathes in his scent, catching his balance in it.

“That’s going to be an awful lot, having a newborn and two 6-month-olds,” Viktor says. There’s something in his voice that sounds off, concealed.

“Yes, it’ll be a lot.” Yuuri realises he’s unconsciously put his hand over his stomach.

“Yuuri, tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice is soft.

“Do you ever want to have kids?” Yuuri asks in a rush. “I’m sorry, I know that’s crazy to talk about now. You don’t have to answer.”

Viktor takes a few moments too long to respond and Yuuri feels himself deflate. It was stupid to ask like that, they barely know each other--

Viktor tilts Yuuri’s chin to face him. His eyes are so blue: an ocean, a sky. “Yuuri, that’s a huge decision. But please believe me when I say that with you, I want everything.”

The world starts to blur.

“Don’t cry, love,” Viktor says. “Whatever decisions there are to be made, they’re yours and yours alone. But if you want kids right now or in ten years or never, I’m with you.”

“I want to keep them,” he whispers. He feels so guilty.

Viktor takes his hand and laces their fingers together. “Then we will.”

Somehow, the decision is as easy as that.

They’ll need a bigger apartment. Viktor is going to be shameless about buying things, even more so than usual, Yuuri can feel with bone-deep certainty. More worries pop up: there should probably be a nesting room, if he’s going to be nursing. They should read a book about how babies work. Should he ask Mari? _Should he ask his mom?_

“I suppose I can just work from home for a while,” Yuuri says. “Since I’m already doing that.”

“After we both have our time off, I’ll work from home too.”

“Is Yakov really going to let you?”

“I think he’ll find I’m very persuasive. Also, if he doesn’t let me, I’ll just quit.” Viktor smiles. Yuuri chokes. “As you can imagine, I don’t do this for money. And neither of us will want for work should we desire it. People will be fighting for a minute of my talented Yuuri’s time.”

“This is crazy,” Yuuri says, honestly amazed.

“Yes.” Viktor pulls him into his lap. Yuuri leans back against his shoulder and Viktor puts his hand gently over Yuuri’s pregnant middle. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue-type oneshot written in the near future and published in the same series. I wanted to keep my promise of "not a kidfic" -- while the oneshot will of course have the kids in it, the focus will remain on Victuuri and their relationship. 
> 
> Thank you so much again.  
>  m(_ _)m
> 
> If you are interested in my other yuri on ice fics, they are available on my [SFW username](http://https://archiveofourown.org/users/merigold/pseuds/merigold). (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)


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